


No, I'm Gonna

by Spiderlily_Writes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol is here, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Casual Sex, Clubbing, F/F, Hate Sex, Hilda pesters a hot lady until she bangs her in a club bathroom, Probably gonna continue this, but nobody is drunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlily_Writes/pseuds/Spiderlily_Writes
Summary: Hilda's used to getting what she wants, especially when she turns up the charm.  In this case, she wants that really hot, arrogant, rude looking businesswoman across the bar to make out with her.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 140
Kudos: 276
Collections: clouds wlw favs





	1. Your Highness

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this was supposed to be a 500 word drabble suggested by @TripleXXXFox on twitter.
> 
> Instead, you're getting several thousand words and a probable sequel fic or two, because I love Hildagard and have no self control. Enjoy!

“Just  _ look _ at her, Claude,” Hilda growls, her hand tightening around her glass, which is currently half full with her second Blue Hawaiian of the night. “Look how  _ smug _ she is.” She gestures at a woman sitting on the other end of the bar, wiggling her fingers for emphasis and making the many rings upon them click musically. Claude scrutinizes the woman, as requested.

“I don’t know, Hilda, I think she looks pretty normal,” he teases, flicking her shoulder lightly. “You sure you’re not projecting?”

She swats his hand away and takes another sip of her drink, sucking more cocktail up through the bendy straw without ever taking her eyes off of the object of her ire. Hilda puts as much venom into the slurp as possible, trying to adequately convey how pissed she is. “Yes, I’m sure, Claude. Look how she’s dressed! Who goes out to a club in a fucking  _ pantsuit _ ? She’s like five-nothing and she’s  _ still _ looking down on everyone here.”

Claude stares at Hilda, who is very pointedly  _ not _ looking at him, thank you very much. She knows that if she does, he’s going to see the actual reason for her frustration. He’s good at reading people like that. She flicks her eyes over at him, sees the smirk that he’s not trying very hard to hold back, and knows that it doesn’t actually matter. Hilda groans. “You might as well just say it, asshole.”

“You want her to fuck you  _ so bad, _ ” he says, cackling like the villain she’s always known him to be. “God, Hilda, you’re transparent.”

She swats at him again, but he only laughs harder. Hilda puts her face in her hands, being careful not to mess up the makeup that took her, like,  _ an hour and a half _ to put on, and whines plaintively. “I  _ know _ and it  _ sucks. _ I cannot  _ believe _ I’m going to have sex with that woman.” Her voice comes out muffled by her hands, and Claude rubs her back in a way that she supposes is intended to be conciliatory. 

“I mean, you don’t  _ have _ to,” Claude ventures, sounding hesitant.

Hilda waves him off with one hand. “No, I’m  _ gonna _ .”

She slurps up the rest of her Blue Hawaiian in one long, magnificent sip and plants the glass down on the table, the glass ringing out with one long, pure note that says ‘finality’. A decision has been made. Her mind is set. Claude is already looking beyond Hilda and to a man with long, pretty, violet hair, and Hilda’s hoping that he’ll be too distracted by that to interfere, for good or for ill.

“You gonna go talk to her?” Claude asks without taking his eyes off the man.

Hilda nods in confirmation, standing up from her spot. “Gonna go talk to her. Just you watch, I’m gonna have her eating out of the palm of my hand inside the next twenty minutes. Tops.”

“I bet she does,” he muses quietly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing; good luck.”

Hilda glares down at him, but doesn’t dignify him with a response. She’ll show Claude. She’ll show him who tops around here. She pushes her chair in, checks her face in the mirror behind the bar, and struts over to where the woman is sitting, shoes clicking on the floor authoritatively.

She psychs herself up as she walks. She can do this. She can totally do this. She’s talked to all kinds of women at bars before. Plus, she’s looking  _ super _ cute tonight in her favorite crop-top and skirt combo, her makeup is on point, and she’s  _ determined _ as all hell. Easy. But she tugs the front of her top down just a  _ tiny _ bit, just to be safe. A little advantage never hurt, and Hilda's well aware that hers is pretty big.

When Hilda gets there, she notices there’s an empty seat on either side of the platinum-haired woman. Perfect. She chooses the one on the left, drops her purse onto the bar, and plops down in the seat in a way that she hopes will get the woman’s attention. It seems to work, because her quarry turns her head about forty five degrees in her direction to look at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Hey! I’m Hilda!” she says, her voice as bubbly and bright as she can make it. That tone’s gotten her out of more homework assignments, chores, parking tickets, and other assorted responsibilities than she can count. Hilda drops her elbow on the bar and rests her chin in her upturned palm, wiggling her fingers in greeting. Her jewelry jingles noisily enough to be heard even through the music. 

The woman blinks at her, her face a perfectly placid mask that betrays no emotions whatsoever. Shit. Hard to do anything with that. The woman opens her mouth to speak, and Hilda’s smile widens in anticipation.

“I’m sure you are,” she says, patronizingly, and turns back to her drink. Hilda, already half prepared to launch into her tried-and-true, evidence-based seduction routine, pauses with her mouth wide open.

“Sorry?” Hilda asks, frowning. That wasn’t the response she expected. The woman looks at her again, rolling her eyes and drumming her fingertips on the bar.

“I have no doubt, whatsoever, that your name is Hilda. I appreciate you letting me know. You can go back to whatever you were doing. Shoo.” The woman makes a ‘go away’ gesture with her free hand, as though she’s trying to rid herself of a particularly annoying cat.

Hilda draws her lips together into a line, turning to look at the bartender rather than at her  _ positively loquacious _ conversational partner. Had the woman simply said she was uninterested, Hilda would have walked away with bruised pride and left it at that. After all, every woman knows what it’s like to get hit on by an exceedingly persistent asshole.

But that?  _ That  _ was uncalled for, and so Hilda plants herself right there in that seat as though she’s rooted to the spot, pops open her purse, and pulls out her phone, making it clear that she intends to go nowhere. “I’ve decided I like this spot, actually,” she says, an edge to her words. “You can feel free to leave if my presence so offends,  _ your highness _ .”

Her highness rolls her eyes and snorts. “Be my guest, but I don’t know what you think it’s going to get you.”

After ordering another drink, Hilda pops the end of the straw in her mouth while she uses both hands to angrily text Claude, and then to vaguetweet about the absolute  _ rudeness _ of some people. The two of them drink in silence as one minute turns to two, to five, to ten, to fifteen, with both women adamantly refusing to go  _ anywhere. _

She’s watching the woman out of the corner of her eye the entire time, but to her dismay, she doesn’t even get a spare glance. Instead, after about the fifth minute of obstinate, ridiculous silence, the woman turns and reaches into her own purse, rooting around for a moment before pulling out an honest-to-god  _ book _ , like, a fucking  _ paperback novel _ , and beginning to read.

Hilda gapes openly and then, finally, she sees one corner of the woman’s mouth tilt upward in the tiniest, most  _ barely _ noticeable smirk. She still doesn’t look at Hilda, but she seems to be aware of the effect that she’s having, because that tiny little  _ fucking _ smirk doesn’t go anywhere. It just sits on the lady’s annoyingly kissable lips and taunts her.

Well, two can play at that game. If the woman is going to ignore her so pointedly, Hilda figures she should make herself harder to ignore. It starts with her drumming her perfectly manicured nails on the side of her glass, and escalates to her bobbing her head in time with the music, and when she  _ still _ doesn’t get a reaction, she sings along with the lyrics. Just loud enough for the woman to hear, of course.

The motion is very, very subtle, but Hilda notices as the woman’s free hand tightening just a little tiny bit on her glass. She looks up, and sees the woman’s brows are furrowed as well, as though she’s trying very, very hard to focus. She’s obviously starting to crack at about a half-hour in, and Hilda decides it’s time to play her trump card.

“Aw, fuck,” she whines aloud, looking down at her phone in obvious disappointment. “My phone’s gonna die.” 

She sees that smirk return to the woman’s lips, watches her face relax, and to her surprise, the woman closes her book over one finger, marking her place, and looks right at Hilda. She sounds ten times more smug than Hilda had even imagined she could when she speaks. “What a shame, and here I was just about to-”

“Oh, here we go!” Hilda interrupts, whipping a charger and a portable battery out of her purse, grinning triumphantly. She plugs in her phone and the screen flashes to life as the device detects the presence of a power source.

Dear god, if she could snap a picture of the abject dismay and devastation that crossed this woman’s face in that moment, she’s pretty sure she could live exclusively off the rush it provides for the rest of her life. The lady slaps the book down on the bar, not seeming to care that she just lost her spot, and turns on Hilda.

“What is your  _ problem? _ ” the woman seethes, her violet eyes- which Hilda has to admit are quite pretty- flashing with barely contained outrage. “ _ Why _ won’t you leave me alone?”

Hilda bats her eyelashes coquettishly and gives her the best innocent, dumbfounded look she can muster. “But, you said you didn’t mind if I sat here!” she protests. She pouts, too, working up some crocodile tears. She figures it can’t hurt to lay it on  _ thick _ . “Why are you being so  _ mean  _ to me?”

To Hilda’s absolute amazement, it actually  _ works _ . The anger doesn’t flee the woman’s face entirely, but she looks significantly less sure of herself, and her response comes out in a stutter. “I-I...uh…you…” 

Pressing the offensive, Hilda blinks once, sending those tears cascading down her cheeks. She hopes it doesn’t cause her makeup to run. “I just wanted to come over here and say hi ‘cause I thought you were pretty, and then you were all  _ mean _ , and now you’re  _ yelling _ at me!” she whines pitifully.

“I- oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m sorry!” the woman hisses, clearly embarrassed. She’s looking around, head swivelling, eyes darting, trying to see if anyone’s staring. They aren’t. Yet. But Hilda knows she can crank up the volume pretty quick and get some looks if she has to. “I’ve had a long day, okay? It’s not you, it’s…” She fumbles, trailing off. “Look, would it help if I buy you a drink or something?”

Her trap sprung, her prey caught firmly in her jaws, Hilda shuts off the waterworks just as fast as she’d turned them on. A quick sniffle, a hand sweeping away the tears on her cheeks, and a bright, stellar moonbeam of an impish smile, and it’s as though the last minute or so never happened.

“I like Blue Hawaiians,” she sings, propping her chin up on one hand and looking at the woman expectantly. The woman, for her part, seems to short circuit, her lips parting in the littlest offended gasp that Hilda has ever seen and her eyes going wide as she realizes she’s just been played like an orchestra and a half. It’s pretty cute, all told. “So, what’s your name anyways, hot stuff?” Hilda continues. “I’ve been mentally referring to you as ‘this woman’ for the last hour or so and it’s getting old.”

As the bartender comes over to take the order, both for a refill of her own Dark and Stormy and for another Blue Hawaiian for Hilda, the woman speaks in a daze, as though she’s still processing what just happened. As soon as the bartender steps away to make the drinks, the woman turns back to Hilda, and her face is on  _ fire _ . She opens and closes her mouth a few times, like she’s wanting to speak but her brain won’t produce the words she needs. Eventually, a name falls out.

“Edelgard,” says Edelgard. Or at least, Hilda  _ thinks _ that’s what she says and who she is, because it’s pretty hard to understand her through the gritted teeth. “Was that-” she gestures at Hilda’s face and hand as though that explains everything. “Did you just  _ fake _ all of that?” she demands, and it’s pretty clear this woman isn’t used to being told ‘no’. 

The whole ‘domineering’ thing she has going on is pretty hot, actually, and it makes Hilda shiver. Whether the shiver is from fear or arousal, only the Goddess knows. She definitely wants this woman to step on her though, and it seems by the look on her face that she’s on her way there. Maybe on her way to some kicks and a broken arm as well, but she’s not here to be picky.

Hilda tries to play innocent again, but Edelgard’s clearly not buying. “What? No! Of course not! I really do like Blue Hawaiians, and you really  _ were _ being mean to me!”

“You deserved it. That and more,” Edelgard spits, “I can’t believe I fell for that absolutely ridiculous displ-”

“I really do think you’re pretty, too,” Hilda purrs, interrupting the tirade and stopping Edelgard in her tracks. Edelgard flushes again, and it has little to do with anger, this time. She stares at Hilda, Hilda stares back, and there’s a tension hanging in the air that’s so thick that Hilda’s pretty sure she couldn’t even cut it with an ax, until the bartender, saint that he is, drops off their drinks and diffuses a little of that tension with his presence. Hilda sighs in relief.

“Whew, how about  _ that _ , huh?” Hilda asks, casually, taking a sip of her drink and looking back down at her phone before meeting Edelgard’s eye again. Edelgard hasn’t moved. She’s still staring at Hilda with that same dumbfounded expression, caught somewhere in the center of a triangle between angry, shocked, and, if Hilda’s lucky, a little turned on. “Thanks for the drink, Edelgard, ‘preciate it.”

Edelgard blinks once, then twice, her own drink sitting ignored on the bar. Then she remembers to be outraged, and scowls at Hilda. “Well, you got your drink. Victory for Hilda, right? Now that you have what you want, will you finally leave me in peace?”

Hilda considers it for a second, tapping her chin with one finger before pointing right at the tip of Edelgard’s nose. “Nah, I didn’t come over here for a drink, I came over here because you’re pretty and I wanna make out with you. So I still haven’t got what I wanted.” She pauses, then adds: “And if you felt like doing a little  _ more _ than that, well, I wouldn’t say  _ no _ .”

She sees something snap in Edelgard’s face, as though that was just the absolute  _ wrong _ thing to do. HIlda imagines what she’s feeling is not entirely unlike how it feels to notice there’s a grizzly bear charging at you through an open stretch of forest, or a train barreling down a track that you happen to be tied to.

Faster than Hilda can follow, Edelgard reaches for her previous glass, which is now mostly full of melted ice, hauls her arm forward, and slings the near-freezing contents all over Hilda. Hilda  _ shrieks _ at the immediate and unpleasant sensation and raises her hands to defend herself about three seconds too late. She gapes at Edelgard, dripping with water, blinking in shock, in complete and utter disbelief that this businesswoman with an obvious stick up her ass just did something so...spontaneous.

“Oh, no,” Edelgard says, her tone even icier than the drink she just threw. “I spilled my drink. How clumsy of me.” She slides down from her seat at the bar, sweeps her book into her purse, and looks at Hilda with eyes that are equally ravenous and furious. “Please, let me help you get cleaned up.”

Hilda swallows hard, wondering for the first time tonight if she’s  _ maybe  _ gotten herself in over her head here. 

She follows Edelgard to the bathroom anyway.


	2. What You Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda gets what she was after, and then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Here's the smut you ordered!

The womens’ bathroom is pretty small, which isn’t uncommon for a club of this size. Hilda’s actually _intimately_ familiar with this one in particular, on account of having had sex with more than one pretty girl in it. She casts her gaze over at the sink, recently replaced after _someone_ knocked it off the wall while they were getting eaten out by a hot ginger athlete a couple months ago.

  
  


Honestly, Hilda cannot believe the nerve of some people, not to mention the property damage they cause with their carelessness. 

  
  


The one nice thing about _this_ bathroom, though, is that it’s a single-stall affair with a door that locks. Hilda’s something of a club-bathroom-sex-connoisseur, and she knows from experience that nothing kills the mood like someone walking in while you’re in the middle of getting railed.

  
  


As she had been following Edelgard back to the bathroom in question, she hadn’t thought that her stuck up business-formal clad companion seemed like the type to do this often. Those assumptions quickly got called into question though, because as soon as they’d gotten within a couple feet of the door, Edelgard had grabbed Hilda by the front of her dampened crop-top, hauled her inside, slammed her against the wall of the bathroom with one hand, and flicked the latch on the lock with the other, sight-unseen.

  
  


And so Hilda stands with her back to the wall, slightly dazed from the impact, looking Edelgard in the eye and feeling even more determined to rile her up. 

  
  


“God _damn_ , princess! Are you always so mean to the girls you fuck in nightclub bathrooms, or am I special?”

  
  


Edelgard doesn’t take the bait. She leans in to Hilda, tightens her grip on her shirt, pulls her close, and presses their lips together. Hilda yelps in surprise, but the sound is lost somewhere between her own mouth and Edelgard’s, and quickly turns into a pleased hum.

  
  


The kiss lasts for a good half-minute, and when Edelgard finally pulls away, they’re both breathing hard. “Do you _ever_ shut up?” Edelgard asks between puffs, sounding more than a little irritated. At least she doesn’t sound _furious_ anymore, which Hilda considers a plus.

  
  


“Nope, never. I even talk in my sleep. Although I’m not inclined to change a thing if that’s how you deal with it,” she cheerily replies. Edelgard rolls her eyes. “Pretty slick move with the drink there, by the way. That’s one of the more creative ways someone’s gotten me in private.” Hilda winks, waiting for Edelgard to like...grin at her or something. She doesn’t. She still looks vaguely irritated, actually.

  
  


“Maybe I just wanted to throw a drink on you. You certainly deserved it,” Edelgard says, her tone flat and serious. She pauses, then speaks again, refusing to meet Hilda’s eye. “The fact that I’m going to fuck you does not mean that I _like_ you. I want to make that abundantly clear.”

  
  


Hilda frowns. What’s _with_ this woman? “Uh. Yeah, sure, whatever floats your boat, princess.”

  
  


Edelgard nods, curtly. “Good. I’m glad we established that.” She drops her hand from the front of Hilda’s shirt, puts both her hands on Hilda’s hips, and closes for another kiss.

  
  


This time, Hilda’s ready for it. She kisses Edelgard back, hard, fully, pressing her tongue against Edelgard’s lips, then past them, deepening the kiss. Edelgard lets out a plaintive little whine as Hilda does that, her grip tightening on Hilda’s hips. Then, as though she’s just realized Hilda has one-upped her, she presses her own tongue forward.

  
  


The two of them struggle for dominance for a moment, the kiss turning from an impassioned embrace to a show of force. A fight. And it just so happens that Hilda fights dirty.

  
  


Her own hands come forward and she slides one up, burying it in Edelgard’s hair, her fingers threading through the platinum locks. She tugs gently, not enough to cause any pain, but enough to surprise her partner. The other hand slips down Edelgard’s back, over her blazer, and to the curve of her backside. Hilda squeezes once, hard, and Edelgard falters enough for Hilda to gain the upper hand in their kiss.

  
  


It only lasts a few moments before Edelgard responds. It seems as though she’s been waiting for tacit permission to move her own hands into some more interesting positions, and she wastes no time doing so. One slides up the back of Hilda’s crop-top and she drags her nails lightly across Hilda’s skin, her fingers brushing feather-light against the clasp of her bra. It makes Hilda shudder, sends a chill down her spine, and she begins to think that she may have finally met her equal.

  
  


Edelgard’s other hand, though, does something far more interesting. She reaches up and grabs Hilda’s hair, wrapping it once around her hand, and then she _pulls_ , breaking their kiss apart and making Hilda tilt her head up. She’s too surprised to do anything but gasp aloud at the absolute fucking _nerve_ of this woman.

  
  


“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Hilda demands, trying to sound more offended than she feels, but Edelgard is too busy to listen or answer properly. Rather, she leans in and presses her lips to Hilda’s now-exposed neck, kissing her once, twice, three times, then sinking her teeth into the soft, sensitive skin there. Hilda hisses at the little twinge of pain, but she can’t deny how good it feels, too. 

  
  


She closes her eyes and lets a wicked, satisfied little grin find its way onto her face. If Edelgard’s willing to nibble, Hilda bets she can get more than that without too much trouble. The woman’s going at her like a starving animal, and Hilda doesn’t mind being made a meal.

  
  


“Ooh, so that’s how it’s going to be,” Hilda purrs, her voice pitched low and smooth. She chuckles as Edelgard tugs on her hair again, harder this time, and presses another kiss to the other side of her neck. “Is that all you got, though? Little bit of nibbling? I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

  
  


Edelgard’s nails dig into Hilda’s back, and she rakes the hand downward, leaving little lines of fire laying across her there. Hilda squeals in both pain and delight. “More! Come on, _your majesty_. I thought you were pissed at me! I thought you didn’t _like_ me,” Hilda goads. “Prove it!”

  
  


She doesn’t know if Edelgard got caught up in the moment or _what_ , but it definitely seems like her words had the intended effect. “If you didn’t need to be able to walk out of here when we’re finished,” Edelgard snarls, the words hot against Hilda’s throat. “I would be _ripping_ these clothes off of you right now. Literally.”

  
  


Hilda shivers, and for a moment, she considers telling her to do just that. She thinks better of it, though. As much fun as that might be, it would be a pain in the ass to convince Claude to bring her something to leave in. “Oh yeah? And _then_ what?” she teases, pulling Edelgard tight against her and humming. “You gonna spend all night talking about what you’re gonna do to me, or are you actually gonna _do_ it?”

  
  


The other woman pulls away, just a bit, and _finally_ flicks the clasp on Hilda’s bra open. She lets go of her hair, too, and it only takes a few seconds for Hilda to be standing completely naked from the waist up, Edelgard’s hands moving literally too fast for her to track. She blinks. Perhaps Edelgard’s more experienced than Hilda gave her credit for.

  
  


She falls back against the wall of the bathroom, her hands going palm-first at her sides and behind her for support, and she looks at Edelgard like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. “Uh...okay,” Hilda stammers. “Wow. I-”

  
  


Edelgard doesn’t give her time to process whatever the _fuck_ it is that just happened. Instead, she presses forward again, kissing Hilda vigorously and shutting her up pretty effectively. Hilda, for her part, decides to just go with it, because Edelgard is pretty clearly ramping up the intensity and she’s not about to look a hot gift horse in the mouth.

  
  


As she moans into their kiss, Hilda feels Edelgard’s hand come up behind her, and it lands on the back of her neck. Her grip is firm; it isn’t painful or even uncomfortable. It’s a grip that says, pretty decisively: _You will stay where I want you_. The message comes across loud and clear, and Hilda whines in frustration. Her partner’s a little bit of a control freak, it seems.

  
  


Edelgard’s other hand finds its way to Hilda’s hip, sliding up her side in a way that _almost_ tickles. While she knows where Edelgard’s going with this, the other woman clearly isn’t in all that much of a rush. She takes her time, trailing her fingers up, laying her palm against Hilda’s skin, teasing her inch by inch, and while it feels pretty nice, it’s also pretty boring, and Hilda doesn’t like to be kept waiting. 

  
  


She shifts slightly, pulls back just a _tiny_ bit, just enough to breathe a few words to Edelgard. Her voice stays low, but she smiles, and she knows Edelgard can feel the movement of Hilda’s mouth against her own. It’s an interesting sensation to have someone speak against your lips, and Hilda hopes it really drives her words home, because she’s certain she can weasel a little more fury out of this particular short-tempered diva. 

  
  


“Just because they’re a little bigger than you’re used to, doesn’t mean you gotta be afraid to touch ‘em,” Hilda taunts, arching her back and pressing her chest against Edelgard’s to emphasize her point.

  
  


Edelgard _growls_ , and it’s probably the sexiest thing she could have possibly done in that moment. She doesn’t respond, not with words, anyways. Instead, the hand on the back of Hilda’s neck tightens, as does the one on her side. She meets Hilda’s gaze, and it’s _cold_ , so much so that Hilda shivers. “You would be well served to watch your mouth,” she says, her voice deathly quiet. “I do not abide people speaking to me in such a way.”

  
  


“What’cha gonna do about it, Edelgard?” Hilda asks, flippant. “You’re all out of drinks to throw on me, and I’ve fucked virgins that were meaner than you.” She reaches up between them with one deft and deliberate hand, extends her index finger, and punctuates each of her next three words by poking Edelgard right on the tip of her nose.

  
  


“Do. Your. Worst.”

  
  


Edelgard’s eyes narrow, and she takes a deep breath in through her nose. She’s clearly, obviously pissed off beyond belief, and if looks could kill, Hilda knows she’d be dropping dead to the floor. As the bottom drops out of her stomach and she swallows hard, Hilda considers that perhaps, maybe, just _maybe_ she took it too far. 

  
  


“That’s what you want?” Edelgard asks, her voice positively _burning_. “Fine.”

  
  


With her hand still on the scruff of Hilda’s neck, Edelgard wrenches her to the side. Hilda cries out in response, sharp and surprised at the sudden motion. The bathroom is tiny, so Edelgard doesn’t have to move very far at all as she spins Hilda around with a shocking amount of both strength and finesse, and pushes her down. 

  
  


Hilda barely catches herself on the sink with both hands as Edelgard forces her to bend at the waist. What’s more, Edelgard’s keeping her head down from behind, two of her fingers extending up to the back of Hilda’s head and her grip as solid as a vise. She can’t even look up into the mirror at the moment; she has no idea what the woman behind her is doing. And that’s _thrilling_. And scary. A little scary.

  
  


She doesn’t have to wonder for long, though.

  
  


“You seem to be somewhat _lacking_ in respect,” Edelgard muses, her voice still chilly. “I shouldn’t be surprised, given your display out in the bar, but perhaps I can help you a little bit.” There’s a moment of nothing, a tense second, and then a resounding _crack_ that echoes through the tiny room as Edelgard brings her free hand down on Hilda’s ass with enough force that she _knows_ it’s going to bruise, even through the fabric of her skirt.

  
  


Hilda squeals and shakes a little bit at the unexpected impact, her hands tensing on the sink. She can feel tears prickling in her eyes, and she has to take a deep breath to remain steady. “H-hey, that _hurt!”_ she complains, after she makes sure her knees aren’t going to buckle.

  
Edelgard huffs, sounding satisfied, but no less cold. “Good. It was supposed to. Someone should have done it long before I did.” Her hand moves from the back of Hilda’s head to cover her mouth. “Now, keep your voice down if you don’t want someone coming in here and seeing you in a...compromised position,” she suggests. 

  
  


She shouldn’t. She _knows_ she shouldn’t. Edelgard’s angry enough already, Hilda’s going to get the treatment she wants, she knows she _really_ shouldn’t push it. But like, come _on_. She _has_ to, she’s _going_ to, and _fuck_ the consequences. Hilda opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue, and licks Edelgard’s hand.

  
  


Of course, Edelgard jerks her hand away, reflexively. They both freeze. Hilda looks up, finally able to see Edelgard’s reflection in the mirror. She actually looks shocked, and Hilda smiles, sheepishly. “Uh...sorry?” she says, lamely. 

  
  


“I must be mistaken,” Edelgard says. “You did _not_ just lick the palm of my hand. Even _you_ wouldn’t do something that stupid and childish.” Hilda doesn’t respond, just puts on her most innocent face and hopes for the best. She sees Edelgard close her eyes and take another deep breath. “Alright. Fine.”

  
  


She reaches down, methodically, and pushes Hilda’s skirt up to her waist, then grabs her panties by the waistband and draws them down Hilda’s legs. Despite herself, despite seeking this from the beginning, she blushes. Once they’re about down to her shins, Edelgard snaps her fingers. “Step out,” she says, and Hilda obeys.

  
  


Once Edelgard has Hilda’s underclothes in hand, she balls them up, reaches around, and as Hilda opens her mouth to ask exactly what in the hell Edelgard thinks she’s doing, Edelgard pops the balled up fabric between Hilda’s lips, then covers her mouth with her hand once more.

  
  


“Very good. That ought to shut you up for the time being,” Edelgard muses. Hilda shivers at how _casual_ Edelgard is being about this whole thing; it’s like she’s done all of this many times before, and she’s following a well-worn playbook. She also shivers as she can taste herself, and she didn’t expect the embarrassment that comes along with that to be as much of a turn-on as it is, but you learn something new about yourself every day, right?

  
  


Edelgard considers her for a moment, then adds, “If you need something, slap the side of the sink three times.”

  
  


Hilda whines into the makeshift gag, pushing at it with her tongue and trying to open her mouth wide enough to press it out, but it’s no good. It’s not going anywhere, and all she can do is wait, helpless, for whatever Edelgard plans to do to her. So she nods.

  
  


“Very good,” Edelgard remarks, then Hilda watches in horror as she raises her hand again, bringing it down on Hilda’s other cheek. There’s another _crack_ , and she swears Edelgard hit her even harder that time. She cries out, but the gag does a remarkably good job of muffling the noise, and her eyelids flutter as she reels from the impact. Those tears in her eyes spill over and down her cheeks, and she just _knows_ her makeup is not going to survive the encounter. 

  
  


Edelgard shakes out her hand. “Goodness, Hilda, that stung _me_ , I can only imagine how it felt for _you_ ,” she taunts. “Shall I stop? Or is my point not yet made?”

  
  


Hilda nods vigorously, but she sees Edelgard’s eyes flicker down to the side of the sink, and the very clear _lack_ of slapping Hilda is doing. Edelgard cocks an eyebrow. “I see.” She squeezes the hand on Hilda’s mouth tighter, then brings her hand down twice in quick succession. 

  
  


_Crack. Crack._

  
  


Each one is enough to make Hilda yelp again, and again, she’s muffled by her gag. She’s crying in earnest now, and trembling too. She flinches as Edelgard moves her hand away as if to strike her a fifth time, and then Edelgard finally smiles, the expression wicked and wolfish on her lips. “I feel as though we have reached an... understanding?” she asks, and Hilda nods once, quickly, her face a blazing scarlet.

  
  


“Do you regret your earlier behavior?” Edelgard inquires, and Hilda nods _vigorously_ , because Edelgard is _way_ too unfairly strong, and that _fucking hurt_. She wanted this, but she’s still surprised by how violent Edelgard can be.

  
  


Edelgard, as if reading Hilda’s mind, drags the nails of that hand down Hilda’s back, from the nape of her neck, down to her hips, leaving painful, burning lines in her wake. Hilda whimpers and squirms under her, but Edelgard looks almost disinterested. “Good. I’m pleased to hear that. Now, I wonder…” she says quietly, almost as if she’s talking to herself. 

  
  


She pulls her hand away from Hilda’s mouth, but before Hilda can spit her panties out into the sink, Edelgard taps Hilda’s lips. “If you drop those, I have no problem going back to what I was doing a moment ago. Try behaving for once in your life; you’d be surprised what it can get you.”

  
  


Hilda groans in frustration, but does as she’s told, nodding once, sharply. Between getting pinned to the wall and made out with, and the punishment she’s just recieved, she doesn’t know if she’s _ever_ been more turned on, and she’s not about to risk putting a stop to this. 

  
  


She’s surprised when Edelgard pats her on top of her head and says, in a voice that is unmistakably patronizing, “Good girl.” She’s even more surprised at the way that makes warmth bloom deep inside her. Something to examine later, Hilda supposes.

  
  


One of Edelgard’s hands slips around to Hilda’s front, touching her on the collarbone and sliding down slowly to cup one of her breasts. She squeezes gently, then drags a fingernail over Hilda’s nipple, and it makes Hilda shiver. The other hand slides up the back of Hilda’s thigh, and she gasps, thinking Edelgard is going to spank her again. She’s wrong, though. 

  
  


Instead, Edelgard drags one finger, slowly, _painfully_ slowly, across the slick on the inside of her thigh, and up, and up, and just a little more, and then that finger ghosts across her slit, and she groans in relief before Edelgard pulls that digit away. 

  
  


“So wet, after I just beat you? I should have suspected how filthy you are, but I suppose I can still be surprised after all,” Edelgard says, holding the finger up and examining the dampness on it with a critical eye. Hilda whines, embarrassed and frustrated, because _yeah_ , that’s exactly what she _wanted_ , but it’s still a little mortifying to hear it out loud.

  
  


Edelgard sighs. “I suppose I should give you what you want. You told me to do my worst, right?” she asks, pinching Hilda’s nipple hard enough to wring another little muffled cry of pain from her. “That’s what you asked for; I am simply obliging.”

  
  


Hilda _yearns_ to spit out her gag and say something snarky. It absolutely galls her to let Edelgard have the upper hand like this, but she can’t help it, and _god_ , it feels so good. So instead, face redder than a string of Christmas lights, Hilda nods, once, sharp and quick. She knows Edelgard’s looking at her face, but she doesn’t respond.

  
  


Instead, Hilda sees Edelgard’s reflection cock an eyebrow. “What? I’m afraid I’m not sure what that little motion was supposed to mean,” she says. She taps her foot while she waits, and pinches Hilda again, using a little more fingernail this time. “Hilda? Do you want me to fuck you over this sink right now?”

  
  


After Hilda whines in pain and protest for a moment, she swallows what little is left of her pride, resolves to never, ever tell anyone about this as long as she lives, and nods desperately, _vigorously,_ in the affirmative. She makes sure Edelgard can see, ensures there’s no way she can possibly be misinterpreted. Her pink locks bounce every which way, and she meets Edelgard’s eyes in the mirror, her breath coming hard, her cheeks flush, her gaze absolutely pitiful.

  
  


“Good,” Edelgard says, and at that one word, a deep, powerful sense of relief thrums through her. It’s about _goddamn_ time. 

  
  


The other woman lets her hand glide up her thigh again, once more through the evidence of exactly how irritatingly turned on and frustrated Hilda is. She stops just shy of Hilda’s entrance, though. Two fingers trace a light, teasing, infuriating line right at the top of her thigh, and Hilda groans with all the impatient intensity she can muster. The sound comes out somewhere between a groan and a sob, though, as halfway through her pouting, Edelgard slips those two fingers up and inside her.

  
  


_God_ , she would never have thought that something so simple would feel so good. She’s been on the receiving end of much more... _elaborate_ stimulation before, no question, but something about this particular situation, this particular woman, and the amount that she’s been teased makes this feel like the first breath of fresh air after having her head held underwater. Hilda whimpers, high and needy, trying to push herself back onto Edelgard’s hand.

  
  


Edelgard, though, makes a disapproving sound, and Hilda stops. The last thing she wants is to fuck this up _now_. She stays right where she is as Edelgard slowly, lazily, _gradually_ slides her two fingers in, pauses, and then begins to withdraw them at the same steady pace. HIlda gives her an impatient little whine, but she knows it’s not actually going to get her anywhere; the stone cold bitch teasing her is apparently un-manipulatable, or something. No, her complaint is only enough to widen the smile on Edelgard’s lips, and Hilda _hates_ it. She exhales as Edelgard pulls out and away, her breath coming ragged. 

  
  


As she thrusts in once more, using three fingers this time, Hilda cries out piteously. It’s a sound that only intensifies as Edelgard’s free hand slips across Hilda’s torso to her other breast. She squeezes it, too, as she fucks Hilda, and chuckles as Hilda squirms.

  
  


"I've had a long, horrid, _maddeningly_ difficult day, Hilda," Edelgard says, curling her fingers in a way that wrings another choked whimper from her partner. "And while I was more than content to just be miserable on my own, you were insistent that you were available for me to take it out on."

  
  


Hilda’s panting into her gag, small, desperate sounds slipping through it and falling from her lips with such intensity that she can almost feel them. She doesn’t know _where_ Edelgard learned to do that with her fingers, but she’s thinking she should probably figure it out and go there too. Edelgard’s voice is low as she continues.

  
  


“You wanted this,” she says as she pulls her hand back halfway and thrusts in again, hard. Edelgard continues to speak as she works Hilda over, and Hilda closes her eyes to focus on the sensations. “You just wouldn’t leave me alone, wouldn’t keep your mouth shut, didn’t know when to quit.” She pinches Hilda’s nipple again, and pulls.

  
  


In answer, Hilda just sobs, desperate for anything she can get, pain _or_ pleasure. “And now, here I am, fucking you over the sink in a nightclub bathroom like the base, ridiculous, vulgar creature you are.”

  
  


Hilda nods again, as enthusiastic as before. She hates how her stomach flutters as Edelgard says that; the same sense of superiority that was pissing her off so badly out in the bar now turning her on more than she thought possible.

  
  


Edelgard speeds up, intensifies, varies her movements, and in what has to be less than a minute, Hilda’s mewling in desperation, bucking her hips back onto Edelgard’s hand like an animal. Her tormentor lets go of her chest and reaches up for her hair again, then yanks it back so she can force Hilda to look at the both of them in the mirror.

  
  


“Eyes open, Hilda,” Edelgard purrs. “I want you to watch yourself come for me. I want you to see me as you do, and know who did this to you.”

  
  


She wouldn’t dream of anything else, at this point; she does exactly as Edelgard instructs.

  
  


Hilda feels the rush of blissful sensation hit her like a train full of bricks, and she screams Edelgard’s name as she comes harder than she ever has before, the wad of fabric falling from her mouth and into the sink. She bites her lip as she sees Edelgard in the mirror, watches her smug, self-satisfied smile curl up at the ends as she takes in every moment of Hilda coming undone for her.

  
  


As she grips the sides of the sink so hard it feels like she’s going to shatter the porcelain, Edelgard keeps going, working Hilda through her climax surprisingly tenderly. She doesn’t try to overstimulate Hilda, doesn’t hit her, doesn’t pull on her hair overly hard. If Hilda had more than one unfried brain cell left, she’d have something to say about that, but as it is right now, she can barely keep herself upright.

  
  


Her knees threaten to buckle, but Edelgard quickly lets go of her hair and reaches down under her stomach instead, catching her before she has a chance to fall to the floor and concuss herself on the sink. She holds her there until she looks steady enough to stand on her own power.

  
  


Hilda stands up slowly and turns around, keeping her hands on the sink because she doesn’t trust her wobbly legs to do the work on their own, and looks at Edelgard, awestruck. “That was...pretty good,” Hilda says between breaths, in the understatement of the century. “Now it’s...my turn.”

  
  


At that, Edelgard barks out a laugh, as though Hilda’s just told her the funniest joke she’s ever heard. Hilda didn’t think she could get any redder, but she manages, her face growing warm with indignation. “Oh, Hilda, you can barely stand up,” Edelgard says, wiping a mirthful tear from her eye. “But it’s cute that you’d offer.” She extends a hand and pats Hilda on the cheek.

  
  


It’s the hand she just fingered Hilda with. She can tell.

  
  


Edelgard steps around Hilda and washes her hands in the sink, seemingly uncaring that Hilda’s undergarments still rest at the bottom of the bowl, then dries off with a paper towel. She pitches it into the trash can, and it goes right in, on the first try. Perfectly. The bitch.

  
  


“I’ll leave you to your evening. Thank you, Hilda. That was actually quite therapeutic,” Edelgard says, turning around to leave the bathroom.

  
  


Hilda’s still trying to process what the _fuck_ just happened as she sees Edelgard cast her eyes thoughtfully to where Hilda’s purse fell on the floor when they entered. She thinks Edelgard might be about to pick it up and hand it to her, but no. The other woman reaches into her own pocket, pulls something out, and drops it into the bag.

  
  


Great, so on top of everything else, she’s using Hilda’s purse as a trashcan. The absolute disrespect from this woman, Hilda _swears_. She’d beat her ass if she could walk properly. 

  
  


“Hey, hold on, you can’t just-” Hilda protests, but Edelgard cuts her off.

  
  


“Good night, Hilda,” the woman says, without turning around. She unlocks the door and opens it, waves one hand in the air by way of a goodbye, and closes the door behind her when she goes.

  
  


Hilda looks at her clothes, which are scattered around the bathroom, leans on the sink until she hears the cracking of plaster, and groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm prooooobably gonna continue with this, leave me a comment below if you want this to become a Whole Thing. Thanks so much to my fabulous beta reader [tansybells](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells) as always. If you'd like to come pull my hair on twitter, come find me at [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite)!


	3. It's Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda and Edelgard reflect on their encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Notice that the chapter number is no longer 2/2, it's 3/?. I am, indeed, making this fic a Whole Thing. <3

Hilda’s been thinking about Friday night ever since. Given that it’s Wednesday now, that’s a lot of thinking.

After she’d put her clothes back on and come out to the bar (sans her panties, unfortunately, because those had been pretty much ruined), she’d looked around for Edelgard. It had taken her a little longer than she might have liked, on account of her wobbly legs, but she’d put in the effort. And putting in the effort was not something Hilda enjoyed when she could avoid it.

Unfortunately, the woman had been nowhere to be found.

When she’d run into Claude and succeeded in pulling him off the prettyboy with the purple hair upon whose lap he had been sitting, all he told her was that he’d seen her walk out a few minutes ago. He didn’t know if she’d talked to anyone, or if she’d left with anyone, or even if she’d settled up at the bar, which sucked, because if Claude didn’t know, nobody else would either.

So Hilda had taken a cab back to her apartment, grabbed a shower, dried off, flopped down in bed, slept like a baby, and that was the end of it.

Or so she’d thought.

Because as soon as she’d awoken on Saturday, she found that it had been nearly fucking impossible to keep her mind off of Edelgard, and that’s the way her head has been ever since.

Hilda’s not used to it. She’s not used to having someone living rent-free in her brain, and especially not someone as infuriating as Edelgard. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees the woman’s smirk in that filthy bathroom mirror, when it’s quiet, she can hear Edelgard’s voice, and when she’s in the shower, and her hand slips down a little lower…

Well. It’s infuriating. That’s really all there is to it. 

But as Lysithea takes a sip from a latte that’s more sugar and milk than coffee by at least several times, Hilda can see that her irritation with the whole situation isn’t getting through. Her friend, in fact, is being remarkably blasé about the whole thing.

“I don’t get it, Hilda. You have a crush, so what?” Lysithea says, a little too loud, once she’s swallowed her drink. “It happens. You had a one night stand, and you thought she was hot, and now you have a crush on her. Why is this so weird for you?”

Hilda’s ears burn, and she looks around to see if anyone within earshot seems to be paying attention. No one is.

“Lysthea!” Hilda hisses, significantly more quietly than her friend. “Keep your voice down; you don’t have to tell the whole café, okay?”

Lysithea shrugs. “Sorry, I’ll try. But you didn’t answer my question. Why is this so weird for you? Have you never had a crush before?”

“I have!” Hilda says, defensively. “I’ve totally had crushes before. But, like, when I was in high school. And college. I’m a grown-ass woman, I’m not supposed to be getting ‘crushes’ on people!”

“Well, too bad. You have a crush on the hot businesswoman who totally wrecked you in a nightclub bathroom.” Lysithea grins, wide, like the little gremlin she is. Hilda has to restrain the urge to throw something at her. “Did you at least get her number or something?”

Hilda looks away. “No. She...uh...made that difficult.”

“Difficult?”

“She walked away while I was still kind of dazed.”

“Wow, it was  _ that good, _ huh?”

Not for the first time today, Hilda scowls. “Shut it. You’re not helping.” Lysithea rolls her eyes and takes another long pull on her latte. Too long. She’s looking at Hilda the entire time, with that irritating ‘wise beyond her years’ look in her eye. She  _ is _ pretty smart, which is why it usually feels good to talk to her about stuff, but today she’s getting on Hilda’s nerves more than anything else. 

“Okay, yes, it was  _ that good _ ,” Hilda admits, her voice a mumble.

Lysithea snickers. “Good, I’m happy for you. What are you gonna do about it?”

Hilda has to think about that for a minute. What  _ is _ she gonna do about it? She doesn’t have Edelgard’s number, she has no way to  _ find _ the woman. Her first name is pretty uncommon, true, but she has no idea where to begin looking.

“I don’t know,” she says, finally. “I guess I could go back to the club this Friday and see if she’s there again, but she was kinda acting like it’s not something she does a lot.”

“Good place to start, I guess. What’s the mystery woman’s name, anyways? Maybe I know her,” Lysithea asks, sounding genuinely curious. Hilda chews on it for a minute, trying to decide whether or not it’s a bad idea to tell her. On one hand, Lysithea is one of her best, oldest friends. On the other, she is, as previously noted, a gremlin. Ah, fuck it.

“Doubt it, but her name’s Edelgard,” Hilda says, and Lysithea blinks at her in response, looking at Hilda as though she’s just climbed on top of the table and started singing. “What?”

“Her name’s Edelgard?” Lysithea sounds way more serious all of a sudden. “You’re sure? Like, dead certain.” She pulls out her phone and starts tapping on it furiously, not waiting for an answer from Hilda.

Hilda frowns, confused. “Uh, yeah? It’s not exactly an easy name to mishear. Why? Lysithea, you’re kinda freaking me out.”

Her friend holds up a finger to silence her, then looks up and slaps her phone down on the table, spins it around, and shoves it toward her. “Is this the woman?”

Sure enough, there, on Lysithea’s screen, is a picture of the woman who was three fingers deep in Hilda less than a week ago. She’s smartly dressed, sitting in a pretty, ornate, really fucking ostentatious dark wood chair. There’s a man standing behind her that Hilda’s, like, ninety-nine percent sure is a vampire, and she’s wearing a different suit than on Friday, yet it looks equally expensive. The picture looks like it was taken in some kind of Victorian library or something. 

Hilda’s frown deepens, and she shoves the phone back at Lysithea. “Yeah, that’s her,” she confirms. “What, do you follow her on Instagram or something?”

Lysithea looks like she’s about to come across the table and slap her. “No, Hilda, I do not follow her on Instagram,” she says, as though she’s talking to an exceptionally ignorant eight year old. “That’s Edelgard Hresvelg, CEO of Hresvelg Pharmaceuticals, literal billionaire.”

Hilda stares at her. The seconds drag on as Hilda repeatedly tries and fails to process what Lysithea is saying. Nope. Nothing. “Huh?” she asks, feeling a little woozy all of a sudden.

“The woman in this photo,” Lysithea says, gesturing once more to her phone. “Is a billionaire CEO.”

“Mhm?” Hilda replies.

“Who fucked  _ you _ ,” she points to Hilda. “In a nightclub bathroom last Friday.”

“I follow so far.”

“And now you have a crush on her...”

“Mmm. Still don’t know about that.”

“...and you didn’t get her contact information.”

Hilda mulls that over for a minute, and as it finally begins to sink in exactly how magnificently she fucked up, her face falls, going ashen. Lysithea nods, slowly, as she sees comprehension dawn on Hilda. “So what are you going to do?” she asks, without an ounce of gentleness for her friend’s anguish.

“I don’t  _ know _ !” Hilda moans, putting her face in her hands. “It’s not like I can just call her company’s customer service line and be like, ‘hey, your CEO is really hot and we banged last week, can you transfer me?’, you know?”

“I’m actually kind of surprised you know that you can’t do that,” Lysithea snarks, taking another sip. Hilda glowers at her.

“I’m  _ lazy _ , Lysithea, not  _ stupid _ . Although that does explain something.” When Lysithea quirks an eyebrow, Hilda continues. “I definitely don’t have a crush on that stuck up, snooty, infuriating bitch.” 

“No?”

“Nope! Obviously, I had, like...seen her in a magazine or something and, even if I didn’t realize it at the time, practically  _ smelled _ the money on her. That’s gotta be it!” Hilda says, triumphant.

“Uh, Hilda, no, I don’t think that’s-” Lysithea tries to slow Hilda’s roll, but Hilda Valentine Fucking Goneril isn’t having it.

“No, Lysithea, listen, it makes perfect sense! And now I  _ know  _ I have to track her down a second time. If I can get her to fall for me, which I  _ obviously _ can, I could be set for  _ life _ !” she finishes, slapping her hand down on the table for emphasis and rattling both of their mugs as she does. 

This time, she draws a few sideways looks from other café patrons, and flashes them a sheepish smile and a mouthed apology before turning back to her friend. Lysithea looks awestruck. Or dumbstruck. One of the two.

“You’re not saying anything,” Hilda remarks. Lysithea closes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath before opening them. 

“Would you listen if I told you this was a horrible idea?” Lysithea asks, sounding exasperated. 

“Absolutely not, but your input is appreciated.” Hilda begins to pick at the sandwich that has, until now, gone ignored on a plate in front of her. She slides a pickle slice out of it, grimaces, and lays it on Lysithea’s plate. Lysithea nods and takes the pickle. “Anyway, how’re things with Annette?”

Lysithea flushes. “Low blow, Hilda,” she grumbles.

“Look, I’m just saying, I don’t know if I trust romance advice from someone who’s spent the better part of a semester staring longingly at the back of a cute girl’s head.” Hilda says, taking a bite of her sandwich. 

“Hilda…” Lysithea growls, her tone dangerous. Hilda puts a hand up defensively. 

“Okay, okay, I get it, low blow. You  _ should _ ask her out though.” She hums thoughtfully as she chews and swallows. “Grad school clearly has you stressed out and you could definitely use a good date or whatever.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lysithea munches on Hilda’s discarded pickle. “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about  _ you _ , and your misattribution of your own emotions.”

“Don’t you go using big fancy college words on me,” Hilda complains in what’s honestly a pretty transparent attempt to deflect the conversation, and she knows Lysithea can tell. “If you absolutely  _ must _ use big college words, tell me how your thesis is going.” 

Hilda knows that if there’s one thing Lysithea can’t resist talking about at length, it’s her doctoral thesis. Sure enough, her eyes light up and she launches into some highly technical babbling about the latest something-or-other that she found in her test results. Hilda lets herself zone out, nodding and smiling in all the right places, while she considers what Lysithea said before.

Is it possible she has a crush on Edelgard? Maybe, she supposes, but it’s not likely. She’s not Hilda’s type  _ at all _ . Edelgard’s too bossy, too stuck up, not nearly enough fun, and not  _ nearly _ gullible enough for Hilda. No, it’s far more likely that she’d seen a woman likely to wine her, dine her, and then wreck her with equal enthusiasm.

Now all she has to do is figure out how to run into her again. 

* * *

Hubert sets the saucer and cup delicately upon Edelgard’s desk, careful not to spill a single drop. How a person can move with such grace and finesse all the time, Edelgard will never understand, but she’s pleased that she’s managed to find the one person who can. 

She thanks him, same as always, and lifts the cup from the saucer. Edelgard blows on the tea to cool it slightly before taking a drink, but she doesn’t take quite as much time as usual to savor the aroma before doing so. Hubert, unbelievably, notices.

“Is something amiss, Ms. Hresvelg?” Hubert inquires, gently. Damn that man and his attention to detail. There may be a day where she can keep her concerns private, but today is not it. 

She hesitates. Hubert has been her confidante and closest friend for many years, but she doesn’t really discuss her sex life with him; it’s never felt appropriate. So Edelgard waves him off. “It’s nothing, a personal problem,” she assures him, but he doesn’t look placated.

He nods, but makes no move to leave. “I will not press you for details you do not wish to give, but if it concerns your... _ condition _ , know that my lips are forever sealed.”

Edelgard groans. That’s the last thing she needs to be worrying about right now and, incredibly, she wasn’t. At least, not until he mentioned it. “No, Hubert, it isn’t that, it’s…” She fidgets nervously with the spoon resting in her teacup, refusing to meet his eye. “It concerns an ill-advised tryst between myself and someone who was, for the most part, a stranger.”

She watches as his posture stiffens ever so slightly. Hubert isn’t the only one with an eye for details. He  _ still  _ doesn’t turn to leave, though. “Are you concerned you might have  _ caught _ something?” he asks, embarrassingly, humiliatingly brazen. Edelgard feels her ears burning, and she stares at her teacup so intensely she’s surprised the liquid within doesn’t begin to boil. “Is it, perhaps, that you are concerned about potentially unwanted pregnancies? Because, if so-”

“ _ Hubert _ !” she interrupts, gaping. “No! Absolutely not. That is not, nor will it ever be, the problem, I assure you.”

Hubert stops speaking, recoiling just a bit from her at her fervent denial, and she feels bad about it immediately. He wasn’t trying to upset her, just cover all the possibilities, and it isn’t his fault that she’s on edge today. “I apologize, that...simply caught me off guard,” Edelgard continues, after taking a breath. “It’s comparatively silly, ridiculous, even. But if you do not mind…”

“Not in the slightest, Ms. Hresvelg.”

She sighs. While it’s personal, and a bit embarrassing, Edelgard supposes it might do her some good to talk about this with someone. Hubert is really the only person she  _ can _ discuss this with, in actuality. 

Dorothea would probably be more helpful, but she’s also an incurable gossip. Bernadetta has even less experience than Edelgard does in these matters and would probably lose her composure. Petra, by virtue of being married to Dorothea, is also not a good choice. 

“After finishing with Dr. Hevring on Friday,” she begins, “I went to a bar. It was more of a nightclub, really, but I wanted to have a drink and decompress, and that seemed like as good a place as any.”

Hubert nods. “Understandable, go on.”

“I did, in fact, get a drink or two, but before I had been there for more than an hour…” Edelgard closes her eyes as she remembers Hilda approaching her, her jewelry jingling, her hips swaying, moving with absolute, undeniable  _ intent _ . “I was approached by a  _ woman _ . At first, I thought it might have been someone who knew me by my public profile, but her appearance, and the way she behaved, dispelled that notion quickly.”

“I see.”

Edelgard grimaces. “I tried, several times, to convince her to leave me alone. She was not easily dissuaded, though, and spent the next half-hour on the chair next to me, being as loud, irritating, and generally obtrusive as it is possible for a person to be.” She takes a sip of her tea before continuing.

“After I reached a point where I could not tolerate her behavior quietly any longer, and she employed some exceedingly manipulative methods to get me to buy her a drink, she informed me that she was not after more liquor at all. She told me that she, quote, ‘wanted to make out’ with me.”

“I’m surprised you did not turn her down, or have her escorted from the premises for harassing you,” Hubert remarks, one eyebrow raised. “It’s not usually like you to tolerate such idiocy.”

“You’re correct, of course,” Edelgard says, taking another sip of her tea and trying to remind herself that this is  _ Hubert _ , and if there’s anyone in the world who wouldn’t judge her, it’s him. “But perhaps I was in a strange mood that day, after a long week and the news from Dr. Hevring.”

Hubert nods, conceding the point. “One could hardly blame you.”

She relaxes, ever so slightly. “Yes. Right. Well. After she informed me of her true intentions, I did something a bit rash, and looking back, I feel it was a bit childish.”

“Hmm?”

“I threw my drink on her.” Edelgard flushes slightly, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think that Hubert put some manner of hallucinatory in her tea, because he actually  _ smiles _ . It’s gone as quickly as it came, but she returns it nonetheless. “It...was actually an excuse to drag her off to the bathroom, where we…” 

Edelgard coughs. Hubert looks at her expectantly.

“Well. You know.” She finishes the last of her tea, taking a moment to compose herself, and replaces the cup on the saucer. “Afterward, the young woman was a bit unsteady on her feet, and I had no desire to stay and be harangued by her any further, so I bade her goodnight and left the room.”

She finishes her story, folds her hands on the table, and lets her words hang in silence. Hubert mulls them over for a moment.

“So, Ms. Hresvelg,” he says, seemingly unsure how to proceed. Edelgard doesn’t blame him. It’s a strange situation. “About what, exactly, are you concerned?”

Edelgard worries her lip between her teeth for a moment, looking anywhere except Hubert’s face. “It’s…” she begins, fumbling for the words. “I’m still thinking about her, Hubert.”

He nods, slowly comprehending. Hubert doesn’t ask why she’s thinking of the woman. He doesn’t ask her name. He doesn’t inquire about their tryst itself. Hubert simply listens and accepts, and Edelgard is grateful beyond words for his steadfast companionship. “Did you take any of her information, or leave your own?” he asks, finally. 

She groans. “That’s exactly the problem! I left her my card! I dropped it in her purse, and I  _ know _ she watched me do it. Yet here we are, five days later, and she has not called me, nor even sent me an  _ email! _ ” Edelgard complains. “She certainly enjoyed herself, I could  _ tell _ , so  _ why _ , Hubert, would she have not called me by now?”

“Perhaps she was only seeking a one-time engagement,” he offers. It’s a reasonable thought. Often, people who engage in nearly-anonymous sex do keep those incidents limited to once per person, but Edelgard swears there had been something there. 

She certainly can’t deny that she’s been hearing phantom echoes of Hilda’s pleasured, desperate cries as they rang through the bathroom, picturing how pretty she looked as she squirmed under Edelgard’s hands, and thinking about the rush she got from bending Hilda to her will. And occasionally, in the shower, when Edelgard’s hand slips a little lower…

No. Edelgard banishes the thought. She’s probably projecting her own lustful fantasies onto Hilda, and regardless, it certainly wouldn’t help to get worked up in her office. “It’s possible,” she admits. “I don’t suppose it will do me any good to keep ruminating, right?”

“I would be inclined to agree, Ms. Hresvelg.”

Hubert proffers the file he’s been holding, and she takes it. As she lays it on her desk, opens it, and begins to review the contents, Hubert provides supplementary information that he feels is relevant to the paperwork within. Edelgard nods and asks questions in all the right places, of course, but her mind is far away. 

She isn’t sure why Hilda hasn’t called her yet, but she knows there has to be a reason. There was something between them, Edelgard can  _ feel _ it. She’s convinced, absolutely  _ certain,  _ that Hilda felt it too.

Now all she has to do, Edelgard muses, is figure out how to run into her again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta [tansybells](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells), as always, for being amazing. And thanks to you for reading!! If you wanna come have tea with me on twitter, find me [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite)!


	4. Opportunism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week, and both parties have returned to the scene of the crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Another shorter one this time, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

She is _not_ here to see Edelgard.

This nightclub- The Monastery, it’s called- simply has the best environment, and music, and atmosphere, and the hottest people, and that’s _it_. It would be ridiculous, in fact, for any of her friends to even _suggest_ she’s here to find someone in particular, and that’s the story that Hilda’s going to stick to until the day she dies.

She’s wearing her biggest pair of sunglasses- the cute pink heart-shaped ones- and a hat that is perhaps slightly too large and slightly too floppy to be reasonable for such an environment, but it’s very important that Hilda remains incognito, just in case she runs into someone she knows. If Claude sees her here, for example, he will know _exactly_ what she is doing, and then she’ll have to fake her own death, and that sounds like a lot of work.

So, rather than sipping her Blue Hawaiian at the bar, as is custom when she’s here by herself, she’s sitting tucked away in a corner, at a table, watching the rest of the club like a particularly paranoid hawk.

It’s Friday again. Not only that, but it’s right around the time that, last week, Edelgard had arrived. Hilda’s been here for at least an hour already because she had wanted to ensure that Edelgard wouldn’t be getting the drop on her, but despite having the entire goddamn internet available to her via her phone, she’s bored out of her mind. Hilda drums her fingers on the table and scans the room, looking for anything even vaguely shaped like a bitchy CEO.

Hilda’s eyes snap to the door every single time it opens until she starts to feel like a dog waiting to go for a walk, and after about the fourth or fifth time, her diligence is rewarded. Sure enough, standing in the entryway to the club and flashing her ID to the doorman, is Edelgard Hresvelg, CEO of Hresvelg Pharmaceuticals and Hilda’s future sugar daddy. 

Wow! What a strange and completely unexpected coincidence!

She sucks down yet more of her drink, because a little alcohol never hurts when one’s trying to be bold, and follows Edelgard intently with her gaze as she tries to formulate a plan that will get Edelgard to fuck her again, take her home, and fall in love with her, if not necessarily in that order. 

As she watches Edelgard, though, she notices that the woman doesn’t seem to be moving toward the bar immediately. Rather, she scans the crowd, as though looking for something or someone, and Hilda dares to hope that it might be _her._ Oh, that would be _so_ good. Excellent material to tease her with later. 

She also notices, though, that Edelgard seems as though she’s less than perfectly steady on her feet. A woman with less party experience than Miss Hilda V. Goneril might not notice the slight, subtle stagger in her step as she walks, but Hilda’s been around enough tipsy people to know that her gait is one of the telltale signs of a person who’s had a few already. So, Edelgard was pregaming. Interesting.

Eventually, Edelgard takes a seat at the bar. Her eyes slide over Hilda at _least_ three times before she does, but her disguise is apparently perfect, because there is at no point any moment where Edelgard’s gaze lingers. Hilda smirks and decides to give it another five minutes. She’s watching, thinking, and plotting, and is absolutely not afraid to approach. Of course she isn’t. She dismisses the very thought. 

Edelgard almost seems like she’s _nervous_. She’s drumming her fingers on the bar, looking over her shoulder, bouncing her leg, and despite her obvious pregaming, her nerves do not seem to be settled. It’s interesting; when she’d seen Edelgard last week, she’d been so perfectly controlled and proper. Now, unaware she’s being watched, she seems almost like a normal person.

Ultimately, it’s another ten minutes before Hilda slugs the last of her liquid courage and swaggers across to the bar, her hat flopping ostentatiously the whole way. Edelgard doesn’t notice her until she’s less than ten feet off, but as soon as she does, she sits up as straight as if she’s just had a signpost rammed up her ass. Any trace of nervousness that may have been on her face is gone like a sand castle at high tide, leaving behind only smooth impassivity. The visual transformation is so complete that Hilda wonders whether or not she totally _imagined_ Edelgard’s prior appearance.

“Hilda,” Edelgard says once Hilda plops down next to her, her voice just as cool and controlled as the last time Hilda’d heard it. “What a surprise. And what a ridiculous getup. I see you haven’t developed an iota of taste over the last week.”

Despite her words, she doesn’t sound surprised in the least. Hilda plants her elbow on the bar and uses it to prop up her chin, her legs swinging lazily below her. “Heya, Miss Edelgard!” she chirps. “You come looking for someone? Maybe hunting down some other poor, unsuspecting, innocent young woman to take advantage of?”

Edelgard doesn’t react. That’s not a surprise; it took like, half an hour of straight goading before Hilda got her to snap last time. “I have yet to see any innocent young women tonight,” she says, looking pointedly and directly at Hilda, who snickers. “I’m surprised you came to speak to me, though, after...what’s the word for it? Ghosting me?”

_That_ catches Hilda off guard. 

Ghosting her? 

Ghosting _her_? 

She frowns, confused. Edelgard accuses her with such certainty; such _conviction_ that Hilda knows she’s not being fucked with. “What the hell are you talking about?” Hilda asks, not bothering to hide her irritation. “I didn’t _ghost_ you; you left me hunched over the bathroom sink and walked out the door before I even had a chance to get your phone number!”

“So you were going to ask for my number then?” Edelgard asks, arching an eyebrow. Hilda scowls.

“That’s not the point! I didn’t ghost you; I didn’t have any way to _talk_ to you, period!”

Edelgard sighs. “Do you know how to read?”

“Do I... Are you fucking serious? Of course I know how to read! What does that have to do with anything?” Hilda fumes, and Edelgard snaps her fingers.

“Purse,” she says, pointing to Hilda’s bag. Hilda shoves it across the bar, and only fumes harder when she realizes that she just handed over her purse to Edelgard without so much as _questioning_ it. Something about this woman makes her very hard to say ‘no’ to, and it gets on Hilda’s nerves, but she can hardly be indignant and pissed _now_ ; she already _gave_ her the damn thing. 

Edelgard flicks it open and begins to rummage around inside, apparently looking for something specific. She grimaces after a couple of seconds and looks up at Hilda, disgust plain on her face. “How do you _live_ like this?” Edelgard complains. “No wonder you didn’t find it.”

“Find _what_?” Hilda demands, exasperated, but Edelgard is once more acting like she isn’t even there. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares, waiting for her to finish. “Are you about done going through my stuff? Because-” The other woman stops, withdraws her hand, and slaps something down on the counter, interrupting Hilda. It’s a little piece of paper.

Or, no, not just a piece of paper. A card. A business card. Hilda leans in to look at it, and reads the text to which Edelgard is pointing.

  
  


_Ms. Edelgard Hresvelg_

_CEO, Hresvelg Pharmaceuticals_

_evh@hresvelg.com_

  
  


There’s a phone number, too. Hilda groans. “I thought you were throwing away trash in there! Who leaves their business card after a hookup? That’s so _dweeby,_ ” she complains. 

Edelgard looks even more confused than she had before. “You thought I threw trash away in your purse, and you just _left it there_?” She glances down at the counter and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I am beginning to seriously reconsider my plans to sleep with you a second time.”

Hilda perks up. Hel- _lo!_

“Sorry, what was that? Didn’t hear ya,” she says. “Plans to do _what,_ now?” Edelgard bites her lip, as though she can still somehow un-say that last sentence if she tries hard enough. Her cheeks actually flush a bit, and goddess, it’s _actually_ kind of cute. Now it’s _her_ turn to scowl.

“As if you didn’t come here looking for the same thing,” she snaps, and Hilda puts up her hands defensively.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hilda insists. “I come here all the time; you can even ask the bartenders. You projecting a little bit, _your highness_?”

Edelgard’s scowl deepens. “This is ridiculous. _You_ are ridiculous, and I’m not playing this game with you. I’m going home. Good night, Hilda,” she says, and to Hilda’s utter dismay, she actually turns and begins to slide off the stool. Hilda’s eyes widen, and she reaches out to catch Edelgard’s arm before her ticket to easy living can storm out the door.

“Wait! Hold on!” Hilda exclaims. Edelgard brings her other hand down on Hilda’s, slapping it away with an audible _crack_ , and Hilda yelps, more from surprise than pain. Edelgard doesn’t continue to walk away, though. She stops, apparently willing to listen. Hilda swallows her pride, then continues. “Okay, fine, I came back here because I wanted to see you again. Happy?”

She doesn’t say anything, but she also doesn’t leave. Hilda whines. “Come _on_ , are you really gonna make me say it?” 

“Say what?” Edelgard asks, the very picture of innocence. Hilda can feel the smugness practically _oozing_ out of her. 

“That I want you to…” She looks around, trying to make sure there aren’t any familiar people within earshot. “To...fuck me again! There! Is _that_ enough?” Hilda hisses.

“Sufficient. And since you were such a good girl this time, I’m not even going to throw a drink on you.” The ghost of a pleased smile crosses Edelgard’s lips for just the barest second. Hilda shivers, not willing, at the moment, to confront why being called a ‘good girl’ by Edelgard has that effect on her, but it’s undeniable that it does. She feels warm and...proud? Yep. Goddess, _that’s_ going to be hellish to try to sort out.

“Great, so, now what?” Hilda asks, fidgeting in her seat. Edelgard casts a pointed glance over Hilda’s shoulder to the bathroom that lies behind her, then looks back at Hilda. “Oh. R-Right. That. Yeah.”

She slides down off her stool as well, grabbing her purse from Edelgard’s former spot at the counter, and follows the woman back as she begins to walk toward the bathroom. She doesn’t say anything, following silently along, because more than anything else, Hilda’s trying to understand her own feelings about all this. She doesn’t think it’ll happen by the time they reach the bathroom, per se, but she’s certainly going to give it a shot.

Because while last week, she felt excited, swept up in a rushing current of aggressive and combative passion, she now feels... _nervous_ , of all things. Hilda can’t identify why she feels this way, but she knows for sure that she does, and that makes her uncomfortable.

As a rule, Hilda’s very used to putting other people on the back foot, and she has like, a _million_ tricks up her sleeve that help her do it. She’s hot, she’s sweet, she’s really, _really_ good at playing dumb, she can be sincere when she needs to, and when all else fails, she can be tough. She doesn’t like to do that last one, but she can. One way or another, once Hilda V. Goneril sets her sights on someone, it’s only a matter of routine to get them wrapped around her finger, and that’s how her life has been for the twenty five years she’s been living it. So far, so good.

But here, in this situation, she’s lost, she’s _floundering_ , and she _hates_ it. Edelgard has such a forceful personality, and it’s combined with what seems like a genuine lack of giving a shit about whether Hilda is interested or not. Edelgard definitely came to the bar to see her, and definitely _is_ interested in fucking her until she cries again, but she would also, absolutely, without _question_ , have left if Hilda hadn’t said as much herself. She doesn’t even seem like she’d lose all that much sleep about it, which is a little insulting. And so, Hilda’s caught between a rock and a hard place. 

On one hand, the idea of being around someone who can lead her by the nose like this is really goddess-damned irritating, and she’s not used to it. It definitely doesn’t seem like Edelgard is ever going to give her an inch to work with, either, so if they’re going to keep meeting up, she’s going to have to deal with that, maybe _get_ used to it. It sounds uncomfortably close to _work_ , even if it’s the emotional kind, rather than the heavy-lifting kind. Arguably, it’s a whole lot worse.

But on the other, she doesn’t know if she could walk away from Edelgard so easily. The woman managed to slip into Hilda’s brain just as easily as she’d slipped into her pants, and she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her. All day, every day, her thoughts would inevitably drift back to Edelgard, the pretty, bitchy corporate executive from the nightclub, and it made it really hard to get anything done. When she thinks about just leaving, just going home, not coming back here again, not seeing Edelgard again, and letting the whole experience fade into memory, it makes her heart ache. Hilda, of course, is a woman who knows a good opportunity when she sees one, and it’s that opportunism that makes it so hard to consider walking away as an option.

_Opportunism is what you need it to be_ , says a small voice, deep down inside. _Because you don’t want to consider the alternative_.

She locks that voice in a box and tosses it in the ocean as they reach the bathroom door. Hilda feels her heart begin to pound in anticipation, and she tries to look like she isn’t having an existential crisis. The sunglasses help.

As she snaps back to reality, she sees that Edelgard is frowning at the doorknob, like she thinks that staring at it hard enough will turn it and crack the door open for her. Hilda looks at it, and then up at Edelgard, leaning against the wall by the door. “So, problem there? Too dirty for you or what? You need a hankie to grab it with?” Hilda snarks. “I don’t think I have one.”

Edelgard gives her a flat look. “No, Hilda,” she replies, incredibly patiently, as though explaining to a five-year-old. “If you were paying attention, I just _tried_ to turn the knob, and stated, quite audibly, that the door is locked.”

“So what? We just have to wait for the person to come out.” 

Edelgard shakes her head, then points at her ear. Hilda frowns, then realizes what she means. She closes her eyes and leans closer to the door, only to be greeted by the unmistakable sound of barely-muffled moans coming from inside. She grimaces, opening her eyes and looking at Edelgard expectantly. “Alright. Maybe it’ll be a while. Whatever. It’s not like we have another choice.”

Her partner crosses her arms, closes her eyes, and heaves a deep, weary sigh. “I cannot believe I’m saying this,” she breathes, as though she’s talking more to herself than to anyone else.

Hilda cocks her head to the side and crosses her own arms as well, curious, anxious, and mirroring Edelgard’s posture without realizing she’s doing so. “Saying what?”

“Come along. We’re going to my apartment.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, thanks to [tansybells](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells) for being the world's best beta, and if you'd like to come get updates on the newest, sexiest snark I can manage, find me on twitter [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite).


	5. Overnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Edelgard takes Hilda home for the night, things get a little more personal than she might have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! I told you I was getting back to my fics-in-progress.

Hilda has been in some tense backseats before, but this one probably takes the cake.

It’s one thing when you meet someone in a bar, banter a little bit, throw a drink, get a drink thrown at you, and fuck it out in a public restroom. That’s fun, and sexy, and spontaneous. Hell, even going _back_ to that same bar still feels like an impulsive decision, to a point. Even if she’s been planning on it all week.

This, though? This is something else.

Edelgard is sitting next to her, flipping through her phone—reading emails, as far as Hilda can tell—and doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by her current position. Hilda, meanwhile, is continuing her existential crisis from her walk to the nightclub bathroom. Because spontaneity is one thing, but getting in a car with someone? Going home with them? There’s planning going on here, there’s premeditation. And it’s not just a stupid one night stand anymore.

Hilda squeezes her stupid, floppy hat in her hands, frustrated at herself. This isn’t like her, this…ruminating. She should be dicking around on social media right now, or texting Claude, hell, teasing Edelgard, _something_. She’s so lost in her own head, in fact, that when Edelgard clears her throat to get her attention, she gasps audibly and flinches, as though she hasn’t been sitting right the fuck next to her the entire time.

“What?” Hilda demands, a little more sharply than she intends.

Edelgard gives her a flat look, gesturing out the window. “We’re here, Hilda. You didn’t seem to notice when the car stopped.” She pauses for a moment, frowning. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. You were staring at the back of the passenger seat as though you expected it to try to eat you.”

Goddess, Edelgard is too perceptive for her own good. It probably comes with the territory when you’re good at business or whatever.

“No, I’m fine,” Hilda says, and though her poker face doesn’t snap back into place quite as quickly as Edelgard’s, she’s always been a champ at bottling shit up. So she bats her eyelashes in the most egregiously coquettish way she can manage and gives Edelgard a patronizing smile. “It’s cute that you’re worried about me, though.”

For just a moment, Edelgard narrows her eyes at Hilda, clearly suspicious, but not willing to press the issue. So she shrugs, opens her door, and steps out of the car. Hilda follows, thanking the driver politely. Because she was raised right.

They exit in front of a building that seems, honestly, a little gaudy and ostentatious for someone as no-nonsense as Edelgard, but Hilda supposes there’s more to everyone than meets the eye. After a brief check over her shoulder to make sure Hilda is still following, Edelgard makes a beeline for the front door, almost like she’s afraid of someone seeing the two of them together. Hilda falls into step beside her, refusing to let her off that easy. Once she has a new objective to occupy herself—in this case, the desire to rile up Edelgard—her prior anxiety slips into the background of her mind.

“So, Edelgard, this is where you live, huh?” she asks, her tone casual, light, easy, and loud enough for any bystanders to hear. She does draw a few eyes, though that’s probably just as much because of her hat and her thoroughly sequined top. “Nice place, very fancy.”

Edelgard doesn’t reply at first, but she does quicken her pace a little bit toward the elevator. Hilda smiles. Good. If there’s one thing she learned from last time, it’s that a little bit of poking and prodding gets her exactly where she wants to be. And if there’s one thing Hilda’s very _good_ at, it’s poking and prodding.

“You’re really quiet right now. Way more than you were at the club,” she continues, leaning against the wall by the elevator doors. Edelgard gives her a warning glare as she punches in some numbers on the keypad. “What, do you not want people to pay attention to you and the girl you brought back here to fu—”

Hilda gasps as Edelgard grabs a fistful of her shirt, yanks her close, and kisses her, hard, on the mouth. It’s not a particularly warm or passionate kiss, really, but it _is_ pretty hot how Edelgard is holding onto her all possessively, all _angrily_. She hums into her partner’s mouth and tries to part both of their lips to deepen the kiss, but Edelgard lets go when the elevator arrives with a ‘ping’.

They step inside, and once the door closes, Edelgard crosses her arms and glares at Hilda, who does her very best to act innocent.

“What the hell was that?” Edelgard demands. Hilda grins.

“No idea what you’re talking about, Miss C-E-O,” Hilda teases. “What, do you not want people knowing you have sex? It’s pretty normal, you know. You’re not even like… _bad_ at it. You’re definitely not bad at kissing, either.”

She continues to stare Hilda down, but Hilda stares right back, her smile widening with every second. Edelgard scowls, and breaks eye contact first, pulling out her phone and very unconvincingly flipping through her emails again.

When the elevator reaches its destination—‘P’, which Hilda assumes to mean ‘penthouse’—Edelgard steps out the doors and toward her own, which is just a few steps away, like a woman on a mission. Hilda saunters out after her, and waits until she’s thoroughly distracted by trying to locate her apartment’s key before reaching out and goosing her on the ass.

Edelgard stands up straight and drops her keys, both of her hands flying to cover her backside as she yelps in surprise. Hilda, meanwhile, leans against the wall by the door and crosses her arms, trying to look bored. “Come on, Edelgard, you’re taking _forever_ ,” she complains, as Edelgard gapes at her, eyes wide. One would think she’d never been goosed before. Actually, Hilda reflects, maybe she hasn’t.

Her train of thought is interrupted when Edelgard’s look of shock turns into a scowl, and, moving too quickly for Hilda to react, she reaches out and grabs a fistful of her hair, then tugs _down_. Hilda cries out, more in surprise than in pain, and stumbles to her knees, hands going up to grab at Edelgard’s. “Ow, hey, what the _fuck?_ ” Hilda demands, pouting. “That _hurts_.”

“Pick up my keys,” Edelgard says, her voice angry, but controlled. Oh _yeah_. That’s exactly what Hilda’s been going for. That’s what got her going so good last weekend. “Now.”

“W-What if I don’t?” Hilda asks, making no move to grab them. Edelgard tugs harder, and Hilda lets out a small, involuntary whimper.

“Then I’ll decide you’re too much of a brat for me to waste my time with, and call you a cab,” Edelgard says, coldly casual. They hold each other’s eyes for a moment, but this time, Hilda breaks first. She snaps the keys up off the floor and hands them up to Edelgard.

“Here,” she mumbles. When Edelgard doesn’t let go of her hair, she adds “…sorry.”

The hand releases. Edelgard takes the keys and resumes unlocking the door, which swings open a moment later. Hilda stands up and fixes her hair, pouting the whole time, but Edelgard doesn’t seem to notice. She just heads into her apartment, leaving the door open behind her, apparently trusting Hilda to follow.

After considering for a moment whether she should just leave out of spite, she follows.

The lights flick on at a touch from Edelgard, to reveal an apartment that’s actually a fair bit smaller than Hilda expects. Sure, it’s still a penthouse, so it’s still a bigger space than any two other apartments Hilda’s ever lived in, smooshed together, but it’s still…homey. The furniture looks new-ish, well maintained, but not pristine like a lot of the rich peoples’ homes she’s seen. The couch in the living room just a ways off looks especially plush, and for a moment, Hilda considers how nice it might be to just go flop down on that.

Hilda hears a _click_ as the door locks behind her, and she turns to see Edelgard leaning against it, arms crossed, looking her over as if she’s appraising a new car she’s thinking about buying. Once she knows she has Hilda’s attention, she smiles wolfishly.

“So, Hilda,” she says, her tone mild, even curious. “What on earth should I do with you? You certainly did seem to enjoy antagonizing me on the way up here. But there aren’t people around, now. You can’t embarrass me. You can’t make a _scene_. It almost seems like any power you _might_ have had, just vanished.”

There’s something about Edelgard’s words that makes the back of Hilda’s neck tingle. She crosses her arms to mirror Edelgard, trying to look nonchalant. “I’m not scared of you,” Hilda lies. Edelgard snorts derisively.

“No? Well, that’s fine I suppose. We’ll get you there.” She pushes off from the door and takes a step closer to Hilda. Hilda puts one foot back and immediately regrets it, as Edelgard notices and smirks at her. “You might be pleased to know, Hilda,” Edelgard continues, taking another step forward, like a lion cornering an injured gazelle. “That I’ve been thinking about you all this week.”

Hilda swallows. “Yeah? I don’t blame you, I’m…uh…pretty hot,” she says, forcing herself to stay where she is. She will _not_ be intimidated by some stuck-up business lady.

Edelgard is close, now, within arm’s length. “That might be it,” she concedes, quietly, her voice just above a whisper. “Or perhaps I simply like a challenge, and you’re the most obscenely frustrating brat I’ve ever met.”

There’s…not really anything Hilda can say to that. She tries, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times. She _might_ be a little intimidated by the stuck-up business lady. Edelgard comes closer, another half step, before reaching up and putting her index finger under Hilda’s chin, pushing up, ever so slightly.

Any uncertainty she may have once seen from Edelgard, any doubt, any concern, it’s all _gone_ now, replaced by an air of superiority so absolute that Hilda struggles not to fall to her knees right here and apologize for her behavior. “What do you say, Hilda?” Edelgard hums. “Would you make it easy on me? Just _behave_?”

Hilda considers it for a moment. She certainly _could_ do that. It’s an option. She could just be good, and submissive, and let Edelgard fuck her, just be pretty arm candy. That’s what she wanted, right? For things to be easy?

Pfft. Not a chance in _hell_.

“I don’t know…” she says, as though she’s really chewing on the idea. “I mean…”

Edelgard cocks an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I’d probably behave better,” Hilda says, looking her in the eye defiantly. “If you weren’t so cute when you’re mad.”

Hilda watches as Edelgard’s expression remains almost exactly the same, but her face turns about three shades more red. It’s kind of impressive, really. She digs her finger—her nail, specifically—into Hilda’s chin a little bit harder, then pulls away, letting her arm fall. It looks, for a moment, like Edelgard is having a hard time deciding what to do next, but the indecision only lasts for a couple of seconds.

She reaches for Hilda’s wrist, grabs it in one surprisingly strong hand, and turns away, pulling Hilda along behind her as she begins to walk. “Come along, then,” Edelgard growls, without looking back or slowing, even as Hilda stumbles to follow. “We’ll see how cute you think I am by morning.”

Not for the first time, Hilda begins to wonder if she might be in a little bit over her head, as Edelgard drags her out of the center of the apartment and down a short hallway. “Ow, hey!” she complains, as Edelgard’s grip tightens on her wrist. But Edelgard isn’t listening. Instead, she’s pushing open a door that leads, Hilda soon finds, to her bedroom.

Edelgard’s bedroom is as clean and meticulously kept as the rest of her apartment. A few tasteful paintings hang on the walls, and the bed itself is a large, cozy-looking four-poster with that same dark-wood finish that her host seems to like, if the rest of her furniture is any indication. The sheets and comforter are various shades of wine red, and Hilda gets to examine them up-close when Edelgard flings her down onto it with all the finesse of Hilda kicking off her shoes.

She huffs as she lands hard on the covers, and she expects Edelgard to follow her down, or press on her from behind, or _something_ , but no. Edelgard is moving around behind her doing…whatever, and so Hilda flops her face down on the blanket and groans.

When that doesn’t get any attention, Hilda turns her head to the side, so her complaints can be properly heard. “Come _on_. You were being all hot a second ago, where’d you— _ah!_ ” 

She squeals as something heavy, solid, and moving at about a million miles per hour collides with her ass, producing a hard, sharp _whack_ that reverberates through the room. It feels like she’s on _fire_ , and her hands go to cover her backside out of reflex as tears well in her eyes.

“W-what the fuck was that?” Hilda demands, furious. She tries to roll over, but this time, Edelgard _is_ there, pressing her down onto the bed hard enough to pin her.

“A paddle,” Edelgard says, simply. “We have far, _far_ more options here than we did in that bathroom, and I’m so excited to have a chance to try them. I don’t have to content myself with my hand when it comes to correcting your idiocy.”

Hilda whines into the comforter, high and pitiful. She hasn’t considered that Edelgard had funneled a decent amount of her money into weird sex toys, but she supposes it makes sense, now that she thinks about it.

There comes the sound of something whipping through the air, and Hilda flinches, squeaking in alarm, before the paddle slaps the side of the bed. “If you say the word ‘eagle’, we’re done for the night, and I’m sending you out to the couch with some blankets and pillows to nurse your wounded ego for the rest of the evening. Understood?” Edelgard explains.

“Mhm,” Hilda mumbles into the blanket, sullen. Edelgard lifts the paddle away from the bed and slaps Hilda with it again, harder this time.

“What was that?”

“Okay!” Hilda yelps. “Safeword is ‘eagle’! Got it!”

Edelgard hums appreciatively. “Good. Now. I think we have some scales to balance.”

The paddle comes down a third time, and Hilda cries out in agony, tears spilling over. This is _humiliating_ , and that almost hurts as much as the paddle.

“That was for your display at the bar tonight. All of it,” Edelgard says. She lifts her hand off Hilda’s back, reaches down, gathers both her wrists, and pins them behind her, so she can’t cover her backside with her hands.

A fourth impact, this time on the other cheek, and Hilda whimpers, burying her face in the blankets to try to muffle her sounds, hoping to maybe rob Edelgard of a _bit_ of the satisfaction.

“That one was for the ridiculousness in the lobby of my building.”

There’s a pause, and Hilda relaxes just a little bit. Is that all? That hurt like hell, but she can take it. She’s tough. No problem. “I-Is that all you—"

The next whack from the paddle comes in without warning, just when she’s let her guard down, and the rest of her sentence is drowned out by a cry of both surprise and pain that she’s fairly sure everyone else in the building must have heard. She squeezes her hands into fists, because it’s one of the only movements she can make when she’s pinned like this, and groans into the comforter. The pain in her backside eventually goes down to a dull throb, but it still hurts.

“That,” Edelgard says, with an air of finality, “was for groping me outside my door. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Hilda lifts her head up, sniffles once, and mumbles, “’m sorry.” She doesn’t need to affect a pitiful tone, nor does she need crocodile tears. It’s embarrassing to fall apart like this, to be bent over Edelgard’s bed and paddled like an unruly kid, and the pain is really just a cherry on top.

So she _really is_ sorry. Which isn’t to say she won’t do everything all over again once the impression of the spanking wears off and she finds another opportunity. But for the moment, at least, she regrets her actions. Edelgard hums, thoughtful.

“You know, despite the fact that you mumbled it into my bed, I think that apology is the most sincere thing I’ve heard out of you since we met,” she muses, seemingly more to herself than to Hilda. “Well, and the sounds you made when I fucked you.”

Hilda just lies there for a moment, trying to collect herself. Between the pain, the humiliation, and—although she’s loath to admit it—the _arousal_ , she’s having a hard time keeping her thoughts in order. When she doesn’t reply, other than to sniffle again, Edelgard shifts slightly, behind her.

“I…didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?” Edelgard asks, a note of concern woven into her voice. For just the barest moment, the haughty, self-important attitude that Edelgard seems to wear like a favorite coat slips away, her mask comes off, just a little. There’s _sincerity_ in the question, a real, genuine worry that she might have actually pushed Hilda beyond her limits. Despite what she might have said earlier—what she’s _still_ saying, even, she cares more than she lets on.

Ordinarily, Hilda would grab at that thread of vulnerability and _pull_ , eager to unravel Edelgard a little bit, eager to tease her, or exploit that gap in her armor. But today? Tonight? It just makes her heart beat a little faster, for reasons she refuses to examine, and she replies honestly. “Well…I would have appreciated knowing you were a total _sadist_ , but…no. I’m…I’m okay.”

“Good,” Edelgard says, warmly. She lets go of Hilda’s arms. “Remember your safeword if you need it.”

Hilda huffs out a little laugh. “Okay, _mom_.”

And just like that, the moment passes. Masks are replaced. Everything is as it should be. Edelgard swats at her abused backside with her hand. “Didn’t take you for one who would be into such a thing, but I suppose I can accommodate you.”

Hilda rolls over onto her back, flinching as she adjusts herself to be seated on the bed before a still-standing Edelgard. She crosses her arms. “ _Please_. There are women out there who I might call ‘mommy’, but you are absolutely not one of them.” Hilda holds up her thumb and forefinger in such a way that it looks like she’s squishing Edelgard’s head between them. “You’re way too little.”

Edelgard frowns. “You’re almost the exact same height as me.”

“ _Little_ ,” Hilda continues to tease, smooshing her fingers together.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m going to have sex with you,” Edelgard sighs, reaching out and putting her hand on the side of Hilda’s neck, then squeezing just enough to make Hilda feel all tingly again.

Hilda smiles innocently, trying not to show how much she positively _adores_ the way Edelgard is grabbing her. “I mean, you don’t have to, you know.”

“Oh, no, I’m going to.” She lets go, and Hilda exhales softly, shuddering. “I’m going to turn around and grab something else out of my dresser. If your jeans have not been removed by the time I face you again, I’ll grab the paddle.”

Now _that’s_ a threat. Hilda nods. That’s the like…opposite of what she wants, especially since Edelgard’s got her all worked up now. So the moment Edelgard turns her back and returns to the drawers to rummage around, Hilda lays back on the bed, flicks the buttons on her jeans, and casts them off faster than she’s ever done anything in her life. She considers it for a moment, and takes off her top, too. She doesn’t trust Edelgard not to get all sexy-angry and rip it, and it’s one of her favorites.

As Edelgard apparently finds what she’s looking for, Hilda takes the liberty of posing on her side on the bed, head propped up on her hand, her other hand resting lightly on her hip. She’s wearing some of her favorite lingerie tonight, because, if she’s being honest with herself, she _did_ leave home with the intention of getting laid, and she wanted to look good doing it. It’s nothing _too_ fancy, but she feels like the pink bra and boyshorts match her hair quite nicely.

She watches Edelgard pull a strap-on—about what Hilda expected, really—from the drawer and slot a…surprisingly large dildo into the front. And then Edelgard stops. The only motion Hilda can see is one of the straps of the toy, dangling from her hand, swaying lightly. Edelgard takes a deep breath.

“Uh…you good?” Hilda asks, curious. “You need a minute?”

Her words seem to jostle Edelgard back to life. She shivers. “I’m fine,” Edelgard snaps, clearly lying through her teeth. She reaches down and undoes her own pants— _chinos_ , fucking _honestly_ , this woman—and lets them fall to the floor. She’s wearing a pair of plain black panties underneath, but that’s not what draws Hilda’s eye. Nor is Hilda’s eye drawn by the surprisingly nice ass that was hiding under those pants.

She has to keep herself from gasping as she sees the scars that crisscross Edelgard’s thighs and calves. There’s probably a half dozen that she can count, and they all look really old; the scars are clearly visible, but all faded somewhat. But they’re all deliberate, very clean cuts. Surgical scars, perhaps?

Even so, Hilda doesn’t say a word. Even _she’s_ not crass enough to tease someone for their scars. Instead, she wolf-whistles. “Nice butt,” she hums. “If only you were brave enough to wear something that flattered it instead of old-man pants.”

Edelgard pointedly ignores her, putting on the mess of straps and tightening them with practiced precision. Once finished, she turns around to face Hilda, who can now see that Edelgard’s face is so red that she looks like she’s about to explode. But she’s not angry—Hilda _knows_ Edelgard’s angry face, by now. She’s…embarrassed? Self-conscious? Hard to say.

“What might it take,” Edelgard begins, putting one hand on her hip and letting her eyes roam over the now-exposed Hilda. “…to get you to shut the fuck up?”

Hilda gives Edelgard her most winsome smile. “Dunno. Teachers, boyfriends, girlfriends, professors, parents, and siblings have all been trying to figure that one out for like, two and a half decades now. And if they couldn’t make it happen, _you_ don’t stand a chance, Edelgard.”

The words aren’t just a statement, they’re a _challenge_. The meaning is not lost on Edelgard, who seems to forget her embarrassment as she steps forward and climbs onto the bed. Hilda moves as though she’s going to adjust her position, but Edelgard gets to her before she has a chance, and she shoves Hilda down to the bed, before locking their lips together.

This kiss, unlike the last one they shared tonight, is hot, and needy, and demanding, and Hilda can’t help but feel like she’s done something…right? The kiss feels like a reward, and Edelgard doesn’t hold back like she did downstairs. She pushes her tongue into Hilda’s mouth and slips one hand down to her chest. Having apparently noticed the front-clasp on Hilda’s bra, she undoes it easily and lets it fall open, then drags her nails down the exposed skin.

Hilda groans into their kiss, and whines, too, when Edelgard pinches her nipple and twists, slightly. “I might be a bit of a sadist,” Edelgard hums, pulling away for a moment. “But you, Hilda, are very clearly a masochist. Maybe that’s why you go to such lengths to make people want to slap you?”

“I think you might just be overly sensitive,” Hilda fires back, before Edelgard gropes at her tits again and makes her _purr_. “And apparently also a boob person,” she teases.

“Crass,” Edelgard says, using her other hand to tilt Hilda’s head back so she can lean in and bite down on her neck, making her squirm. “And _definitely_ a masochist.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever, are you actually gonna fuck me or are you just going to monologue all night?”

Edelgard doesn’t respond, probably because doing so would further prove Hilda’s point. Instead, she leans up enough to reach for Hilda’s remaining underwear, which are clearly pulled down and tossed aside. Hilda doesn’t see where they go, but that’s a problem for the future. Edelgard slips two fingers between Hilda’s legs and, upon feeling that Hilda is _definitely_ super turned-on by all this, smiles down at her. Hilda reddens and looks away.

“Well, that’s rather conclusive,” she says. “Two times I’ve bent you over and spanked you, and twice you’ve been a sopping wet mess afterward.”

“Shut—” Hilda begins, but she’s interrupted when Edelgard shoves her fingers in Hilda’s mouth, pressing down on her tongue, making her taste herself. It’s strange, and not altogether unpleasant. In fact, it’s…kinda really hot. She hums around those fingers, closing her eyes, swirling her tongue around them suggestively. Edelgard presses down harder with them, and Hilda opens her mouth, pulling back and off them.

“You know…” Hilda says. “There are other things I could do with my tongue, Edelgard, if you’re willing to ditch the strap.”

 _That_ makes Edelgard’s already-pink face flare. “No, that won’t be necessary,” she says, firmly shutting down that discussion. “I think _this_ suits me just fine.”

Edelgard adjusts her position and teases Hilda’s entrance with the tip of the dildo, and Hilda gasps. It certainly _looked_ big while Edelgard was putting it on, but it _feels_ even bigger. She parts her legs a little wider, to accommodate Edelgard’s hips between her own, as the tip presses a little more firmly against her. “I-I wonder,” Hilda says, trying to keep her cool and partially succeeding. “If you’ve overcompensating for anything with that.”

Her partner scowls at her and, rather than rising to the bait, presses into Hilda inch-by-agonizing-inch. But of course, Hilda would never, not in a million years, admit to being unable to take it. So she bites her lip, doing her best to stifle the traitorous little whimpers that try to sneak out, and reaches up to try to grab at Edelgard for support. But Edelgard has a different idea.

Supporting herself with one hand, she uses the other to gather up Hilda’s wrists again, grabbing one, and then the other, and pins them both above Hilda’s head. Hilda tries, futilely, to wriggle them free. She doesn’t know quite how Edelgard is so frustratingly, _overpoweringly_ strong, but damned if she isn’t. Hilda squirms, irritated.

“Come _on_ , that’s not fair. Lemme go- _oh_!” Hilda complains, the last word pitching up as Edelgard bottoms out inside her.

“What, so you can put your filthy hands all over me? Not likely,” Edelgard huffs. “I’m impressed you were able to take the whole thing. Now, be a good girl and let me fuck you until you cry again. It’s a very pleasing sight.”

 _Goddess,_ the way Edelgard says that should be illegal. There’s no fucking way those words should send a shot of dopamine straight to her brain and arousal straight between her legs. And yet, the idea of Edelgard wanting to fuck her until she’s got tears running down her cheeks is…amazing. Thrilling. Intoxicating.

Hilda pouts, but doesn’t struggle too much, nor does she use her safeword, so Edelgard continues, pulling out slightly, and thrusting back in, her movements agonizingly slow, and Hilda just knows she’s doing it on purpose. She’s already unbearably turned on from everything else that’s happened tonight, and yet, Edelgard is taking her sweet, sweet time. “Come _on_ ,” Hilda groans, wiggling her fingers ineffectually. “Goddess, just fuck me already.”

“I know I’m lovely, Hilda, but you need not call me a Goddess,” Edelgard says, smirking down at her, burying the dildo to the hilt again. Hilda whines, frustrated. “Perhaps you should ask nicely.”

Oh, so that’s Edelgard’s game. Fan-fucking-tastic. Hilda rolls her eyes. “Will you _please_ fuck me?”

“Oh, come now, I hope you don’t think I’m going to buy that.”

Hilda bites her lip as Edelgard withdraws from her, slowly, again. “Okay, Edelgard, pretty please, can you fuck me?” she asks, trying to be as sugar-sweet as possible.

“Maybe,” Edelgard hums. “Closer. If I fuck you, Hilda, will you be a good girl for me?”

Once again, chills down her spine. She hesitates.

Edelgard pulls out, presses in. “Come on, Hilda, I could tease you all night. Will you be a good girl for me?” She stops moving entirely, as she waits for Hilda’s answer.

“…yes,” she mumbles, feeling her ears go hot.

“Yes, what?” Edelgard pulls out slowly and remains there, her tip just barely inside Hilda. She waits, holding, and Hilda has no idea how she’s got control like that. “I want to hear you say it.”

She swallows whatever little pieces of her pride might have been left and groans.

“If…If you fuck me, I’ll be a good girl for you,” she says, refusing to look Edelgard in the eye. If her ears were burning before, now her entire face is an inferno.

“See? Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” Hilda replies, pouting, but any further complaints die on her lips as Edelgard rams the strap-on back into her. She manages a low, choked little whine, then looks back up at Edelgard, trying to convey without words how much she needs more. Edelgard obliges.

She fucks Hilda, as promised, until she cries.

It doesn’t take long for Hilda to come once. She feels that pressure build and build, swelling within her, fervid moans and whimpers accompanying the rush of sensation until she falls over the edge. Hilda wraps her legs around Edelgard and pulls her close, and to her delight, Edelgard kisses her as she comes. It’s delicious and sweet and helps her feel complete as the bliss rushes through her body. But Edelgard doesn’t stop there.

As soon as Hilda goes slack, Edelgard begins again, starting slow, working her way up in speed and intensity. Every stroke is perfect, well placed, exactly what Hilda needs, and she wonders, not for the first time, how on earth Edelgard is so _good_ at this.

As Edelgard fucks her, she keeps Hilda’s arms pinned, but her other hand moves up to press down on Hilda’s chest, just above her breasts, keeping just enough pressure on her to be titillating, but not enough to restrict her airflow. She locks gazes with Edelgard as she feels tears well in her eyes—the tears Edelgard had said she wanted to see. She’s hardly coherent, at this point, just a wild mess of barely-there moans that sound more like prayers as she lets Edelgard take control like she’s really wanted this whole time.

Edelgard praises her too, tells her she’s a good girl, tells her how pretty she looks beneath her, tells her that she can have more of this, if she behaves herself. And Hilda drinks down every single word like it’s water in an oasis. The tears in her eyes spill over and down her cheeks as Edelgard fucks her to her second climax of the night. While the first was a blast of relief and pleasure, the second is a warmth, a pulsing, powerful satisfaction that has her breathing Edelgard’s name, blatantly, obviously needy.

Her partner works her through it, this time, timing her thrusts to the convulsions of Hilda’s body, to the pulses of tensing and releasing muscle. She’s gentle, more gentle than she has been so far tonight, and this time, when Hilda relaxes down onto the comforter, she stops, waiting to withdraw the toy until Hilda closes her eyes and nods.

She can hear the sound of the strap-on unfastening, and a soft thud as it falls to the floor. Once she’s recovered a little bit, Hilda calls out to her host.

“Hey, Edelgard,” she says, and she’s surprised by how weak she sounds. It’s been forever since she’s had anyone this good. “Can I go to the bathroom and clean up a little. I’m…uh…kinda messy.”

“Just across the hall,” Edelgard says, and her voice is accompanied by the sound of more drawer-rummaging.

Hilda sits up halfway, confused. She looks at a door on the other side of Edelgard’s bedroom, one that she had presumed would lead to the master bath. The smaller one next to Edelgard’s dresser would have to be the closet., so there’s not really anything else it _could_ be. “Why can’t I just use yours? My legs hurt,” she whines, pointing at the door.

“It’s messy,” Edelgard snaps, with a defensiveness that leaves Hilda stunned. There’s a moment of silence between the two of them as the words hang in the air. Edelgard clears her throat.

“I apologize,” she adds, softer. “I…didn’t anticipate anyone being here, other than me. Just use the other one. You can make it.”

Edelgard isn’t turning around to look at her, and Hilda can tell, even from a few feet away, how tense she is. With a start, Hilda comes to a realization.

She’s _lying_.

Hilda has no idea what she might be lying about, but…she also doesn’t want to pry. Everyone has some skeletons in their closet. There are parts of Hilda’s life that she doesn’t want people to know about. Stuff she’s done. Stuff she’s said. She can respect that.

So instead of calling Edelgard on it, she simply pretends she hasn’t noticed.

“Yeah, okay,” Hilda says, scooting off the bed and standing on wobbly legs. “You don’t have any like…roommates or anything, right? I don’t need to worry about someone seeing me naked?”

Edelgard huffs out a small laugh and turns, just barely looking at Hilda from the corner of her eye. Some of the tension in her shoulders seems to release. “You think I have roommates? Plural?”

Hilda shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt to check. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She makes her way, unsteadily, across the hall. Despite this bathroom being, ostensibly, the lesser of the two in the apartment, it’s still nicer than basically anything Hilda’s ever been in. So she grabs a folded washcloth from a little stand by the shower in there, wets it, wipes off her makeup as best she can, rinses it again, and cleans herself off the rest of the way.

She looks at herself in the mirror, as she does. Her face is still flushed, her hair is an absolute wreck, but…she also finds that she doesn’t mind. Edelgard got her like this, she can very well deal with makeup-less frizzy-haired Hilda whether she likes it or not. Though she also feels that, most likely, Edelgard won’t mind, either. She doesn’t seem like the type who would.

Not seeing an obvious hamper or anything, Hilda just leaves the cloth on the counter and returns to the bedroom. She finds that Edelgard has already changed into a pair of simple flannel pajamas, and is laying out a simple pair of sweatpants and an old tee shirt, presumably for her. She looks up when Hilda walks back in, and Hilda doesn’t miss the way that her eyes linger on…certain parts of her.

“I know you like what you see, but I really don’t think I have another round in me tonight, Edelgard,” Hilda teases, and Edelgard immediately looks away. Busted.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Edelgard huffs. “I presume you intend to stay here tonight, though I’ll call you a ride if you would rather go home. You can borrow these.” She gestures at the comfy clothes.

Hilda takes them and pulls them on, noting that Edelgard also seems to have kicked her old clothes into a pile by the door. “Yeah, thanks.” She flops down onto the bed once she’s dressed, hands behind her head, eyes closed. “So, you ready to hit the hay? I’m _beat_.”

When there’s no response, she opens her eyes to see Edelgard looking at her, frowning in confusion. “I intended for you to sleep on the couch,” she says, and Hilda shrugs.

“Yeah, well, couches are bad for my back.”

To her surprise, Edelgard doesn’t argue. She heaves a large, world-weary sigh, rolls her eyes, and flicks the lightswitch on the wall, which would plunge the room into darkness if not for the small lamp on her nightstand.

“Fine. But keep your hands to yourself,” Edelgard grouses, approaching the bed from the side opposite Hilda’s and slipping under the covers. “If I wake up because you decided to grope me again, you’ll regret it.”

Hilda’s _shocked_. She expected Edelgard to tell her to fuck off, to banish her to the couch. Hilda would have gone, too. She’s certainly not going to invade someone’s bedroom if they don’t want her there. But Edelgard doesn’t really seem all that bothered. Maybe she wants to share a bed with someone, but she’s too stuck up to ask. Seems likely.

So Hilda lifts the comforter and sheets, slides in near—but not touching—Edelgard, and rolls over so they’re back to back. “You got it,” she says. “You can grope me though, if it makes you happy. It seems like it does.”

“Go to _bed_ , Hilda,” Edelgard orders, turning off her lamp. “Hands to yourself.”

“Mhm, got it, goodnight to you too, your highness.”

Edelgard doesn’t reply, so Hilda decides to leave it at that.

As Hilda lies there quietly, waiting for sleep to take her, she considers how incredibly _strange_ this night has been. She’s definitely had weirder, but this one, which sees her sharing a bed with her rich-girl CEO maybe-antagonist-with-benefits, is definitely up there. And, speaking of strange…

Hilda catches another glimpse of the closed door to Edelgard’s bathroom. No doubt, Edelgard like…locked it from the inside, or set a trap, or something. Not that Hilda would snoop when she was specifically told not to, of course, that would be very rude. But that doesn’t stop her from wondering.

_What are you hiding, Edelgard?_

And, perhaps more disturbingly:

_Why do I care?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and thanks to my fabulous editor [tansybells](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells). If you would like to follow me on twitter, find me [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite)!


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